


Jog On

by arosebyanyotherpseud (battleofthesurfraces)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alexis Rose Being a Good Sister, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, David Rose hates running in every universe, M/M, Patrick Brewer: Team Player, but I made him stick with it in this one, parkrun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:42:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25628407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/battleofthesurfraces/pseuds/arosebyanyotherpseud
Summary: When the Roses lose their money Alexis bribes David into taking up running, for the sake of his mental health.When Patrick runs away from his hometown he ends up on every viable sports team, including the core team of the local, volunteer-lead Saturday morning 5k.An alternate meeting AU that takes place at parkrun.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 121
Kudos: 210





	1. Born to Run

**Author's Note:**

> A self-indulgent fic-based ode to running. You shouldn't need to know anything about parkrun to read this fic (other than it's a weekly volunteer-led run that takes place at 9am on Saturdays), but you can check it out at parkrun.com. The parkrun in this fic is real, but I've never been to it and have taken many creative liberties.

“Absolutely fucking not.” David mumbles into his silk pillowcase.

“But David!” Alexis sits on the end of his bed, literally bouncing, the mattress shaking enough to make him slightly queasy. He flings back the covers and frowns at her.

“Nope, no, no. Who do you think I am? I haven’t even been to the gym since 1991, when Dad left me in one while he fired a regional manager in the Rose Video branch over the road, and then forgot about me for twelve hours!” He’d had nightmares featuring the stench of BO and squeaking of treadmills for months. 

“David, you haven’t left the house in a week except to go to the store and stock up on margarita mix. I’m just saying, maybe this isn’t your best look.” She gestures towards his room, which is uncharacteristically disorganised. His king-sized bed houses both him and at least a fifth of his summer wardrobe. Alexis’s heart pangs slightly as she takes in the crumpled sweaters that had been casually tossed over the edge of the bed frame.

“I’m sorry, are you my mother? And I saw Stevie last Tuesday, and went to the post office to send those end-of-lease papers over to the gallery. So, really, no.”

“Ok David, but, see, I was talking to Ted about this, and he thinks… maybe you’re, like, a bit? Depressed?” David glares at her.

“Ted is a vet, Alexis! And I’m not depressed, I’m just essentially hibernating until we get all our money back and we can go back to New York.” He curls back up under the covers. The fact is, he doesn’t want to go back to New York, the place, in particular. Where he wants to go is back in time a few months, back when he thought his friends might like him for more than his money, might keep in touch with him despite material circumstance. Back when he could drown any doubts with some good drugs, decent sex and a soft pretzel from every corner in Manhattan. Now, he just has bad tequila and the internet. 

“Look, please please please just try it with me? It’ll get us away from mom and dad, and I swear we can go super slow, and I’ll buy you some fancy gym kit you like.” 

Wow, David thinks, she really wants to do this. It’s kind of sweet really- for the past couple of decades he had little concept he’d mattered to her at all. And now she’s staring at him with pleading eyes, flapping her hands at his piles of stuff that had just… accumulated until he couldn’t really gather any will to do anything at all but saute in his own meagre belongings. Maybe he is a little depressed. 

“Fine, one tiny run. If I die you have to explain it to mom and dad.” She runs her eyes over his face, sizing him up. Ugh, he’s screwed.

“One week of running. You can have an extra selfish, but you also have to clean this all up.” She swirls a finger in the air, grimacing at the mess. David narrows his eyes, but knows if he pushes any further he’d come out worse off - Alexis had at one point been the best amateur hostage negotiator in the world, and has the framed certificate to prove it.

“Come on David, I’ll help you tidy.” She sighs and sticks out a pinky.

“Fine.” He links his finger with hers and they shake on their new agreement, before he literally kicks her off the bed.

*******

David hates this. He hates it so much, with every screaming, aching, aging fibre of his body. His heart feels like it’s about to pound out of his chest, he’s sweating even more than he did the time he wore his leather Givenchy jumper to Dakota Johnson’s barbeque in LA, and he can feel the blister-turned-callus on his big toe throbbing in time with his feet hitting the pavement.

“Woo, yay David!” Alexis, of course, is bobbing along ahead of him happily, blonde ponytail still perkily perfect even after - he checks his app - a solid 23 minutes of running. 

“I hate you!”

“You always say that!”

For the fiftieth time that week, David curses every decision and circumstance - primarily the loss of the majority of his parents money, leaving them with only the old lake house in Toronto to collectively reside in - that has led to him taking up running, or more specifically, him agreeing to a one-week only “Couch to 5k” exclusive experience with his sister. Who had then bet him he couldn’t finish the full 9-week program and told him she’d owe him a new sweater if he proved her wrong. Who, in this precise moment, he hates more than the concept of Black Friday outlet shopping.

His app beeps and he stops running immediately, bending over his knees, gasping for air. At least he doesn’t feel the need to hurl this week. 

“My god. Isn’t this supposed to get easier?” 

“You’re doing super well David! Only a couple more weeks to go! And Ted and I had this super fun idea about how to celebrate.” Ok, now he needs to hurl.

“I will be celebrating personally by drowning myself in a bubble bath and never running ever again.” 

“Ok David, but what if for our last run we did something a little more exciting?”

“Like what, an obstacle course?!” If she thought he’d publicly humiliate himself by being a fully grown adult clambering up ghastly primary-coloured inflatables she really didn’t know him at all.

“No! Ew, gross. There’s this really cute organised 5k run that happens every Saturday morning, and Ted said it would be perfect for you to finish out your program. Everyone can cheer you on and stuff.” Yeah, sometimes David thinks Alexis gets him confused with someone with an entirely different personality and outlook on life. Upon reflection, it’s probably just her broadcasting her own personality onto even people she’s known for thirty years.

“So your idea of celebrating is dragging me out of bed on a Saturday to run in a park with a bunch of strangers, who will all be able to see how gross I am and will also be running, much faster than me?”

“Mm-hm! Yes.” She nods slowly.

“No.” She glares at him, flapping her hands and he contorts his face into what he hopes is his “what the fuck did you expect that answer to be” face.

“I’ll buy you breakfast! Ted says there’s a really nice cafe at the park and they all meet there after. They do excellent waffles apparently. With bacon, and blueberries, and maple syrup.” She pops the ‘p’ on ‘syrup’ like she knows exactly what she’s doing to his willpower, and his stomach growls. He waves a dismissive hand.

“Fine, sure, whatever. I don’t care.” Alexis claps her hands and her smile splits her face in half quite prettily. After years of continents between them, it’s admittedly a nice sight to see.

“Yay, David!” 

***

Stevie  
  
hey, want to come over friday night? we can smoke and i can finally watch you watch the room (2003)  
  
fuck. yes but i agreed to go for a run at 9am on saturday morning with alexis??   
  
ok if u don’t want to come you need to get better excuses. that’s almost insulting tbh  
  
no, like fr.  
  
wow.  
  
don’t  
  
wow david  
  
what dirt does she have on you  
  
and can i have it too  
  
don’t.  
  
i expect i’ll be in dire need of bad films and weed sat evening?  
  
i’ll ready the ice for your aching limbs.  
  
actually i heard pepperoni pizza is better for long distance run recovery  
  
all that protein  
  
it’s so inspiring to see you embrace a healthy lifestyle  
  
🖕🏻  
  
gwyneth would be proud  
  


***

The last Saturday of May is a lovely day, or it would be if David didn’t have to get up at 8am to allow enough time to do an abbreviated version of his skincare routine before traipsing across Toronto to Downsview Park, which is again, very pretty when not viewed at an unholy hour. Ted meets them as they get on the subway and blabbers kindly about whatever they’re getting into, as David sits unimpressed across from him wearing his favourite pair of white sunglasses and Alexis attempts to fondle every part of Ted’s very nice running-gear clad body, without verging into anything that could get her actually arrested. Which is a step in the right direction for her, David supposes.

The park entrance sits directly across from the subway exit and already people in running clothes are milling around, chatting comfortably to each other. They all looked very… wholesome, David thinks, although none of them seemed to care at all about acceptable colour palettes. He glances down at his best running outfit - an old black Neil Barrett t-shirt with lightning bolts around the collar, long, loose black shorts (still hideous, but at least somewhat weather and activity appropriate) and plain black Asics that Alexis had insisted he bought, because apparently running in his Rick Owens high tops “will kill your arches, David, and then you’ll have back problems at like, 40, which for you isn’t that far away”. 

As they approach, an excitable man in a garish neon yellow high visibility vest - it makes David wince even with his sunglasses on - bounds up to Ted.

“Ted! How lovely to see you again! And I see you brought a couple of new friends. How lovely, so nice to meet you, I’m Ray! Welcome to Downsview park parkrun! Or Downsview parkrun! Either/or really, we don't mind! How are you all this fine morning?”

Ted, evidently more used to Ray’s demeanour than either David or Alexis, smiles and makes friendly, if less enthusiastic conversation with him, while the two Rose siblings just blink, slightly startled.

“Alexis… I cannot believe you dragged me here.” David mutters under his breath, physically willing his body into the future, when he’ll be eating pizza with his good pal turned brief fuck buddy turned “best friend but he’d die before admitting it”, throwing plastic spoons at Stevie’s tiny, 32-inch TV. So long as he doesn’t collapse and die of either heart failure or humiliation before then. Stay alive, David reminds himself, that’s the one goal.

“Oh hush David.” Alexis boops him affectionately on the nose.

“You two should attend the first timers briefing, it happens right over there,” Ray points over to a man - in a blue hi-vis vest this time - standing on a picnic bench, nearly poking Ted’s eye out in the process. “We recommend it for everyone new! It’s really quite essential.”

“Thanks Ray!” Alexis grins - slightly too exaggeratedly to be entirely genuine - and they trudge over to join the small crowd that has gathered. 

***

The man standing on the bench is also far too perky for 8:48am, as he confidently explains the route around the park (two loops), the logistics (all tarmac, signposted, with marshals at key sections), the important rules (right of way, stay off the pavement, do not drink Twyla’s post-run smoothies in the cafe). His warm brown eyes slide easily over the small crowd, both hands shoved deep into his jean pockets, which accentuates his thick thighs perfectly, David notes. Not that he’s looking. 

Bench guy asks if anyone’s new to parkrun events and Alexis shoves her hand in the air before David can grab it. The guy smiles down at her - and _god_ , David doesn’t need to watch a random dude flirting with his sister pre-9am - before his eyes slide over to catch David’s eyeroll and he blinks a couple of time and then, fuck, he _smirks_. 

“The rest of you can wander over to the start. If you’re completely new here”, a pointed glance at David and Alexis “stay and I’ll explain a bit more.” The others meander away to where David assumes is the start line, and then the three of them are left alone. Bench man is still standing on the bench, creating a somewhat imbalanced social dynamic that David’s really not into.

“Ok, welcome guys. I hope you’ve both got your barcodes- ” David frowns, but Alexis pulls out two laminated slips of paper from her pocket and gives the one with his name on to him, and he guesses that’s that question answered. He can argue with her about her officially signing him up without his permission, committing him to this thing, later. 

“-you run the course and at the end, enter the funnel and someone will take your time-”

“The funnel?” David asks - it comes out way harsher than he’d anticipated, but 8:54am.

“It’s some sticks and some tape. Just follow the person in front of you.” This man is still smirking down at him, really there’s no need, it’s only the three of them there, and his eyes are kind of twinkling, fondly? It’s perplexing.

“Keep walking down the funnel and someone will give you a token at the end, take the token and your barcode over to a person with a scanner, let them scan both, give them the token, and you’re home dry. I’ll be sorting the results in the cafe afterwards, usually we’re ready to roll by noon-ish. Any questions?”

“Hi, yes, could you perhaps repeat all of that without the sports metaphors?” Bench guy laughs and smiles down at the ground.

“You know what, I’m sure you’ll figure it out…?” He peels a hand out of his pocket and sticks it out to shake. _Who the fuck shakes hands at an organised run?_

“David.” David takes this man's hand, who shakes it - firmly, warmly, it’s really a lovely hand - and then finds himself being held onto as the guy uses David’s grip to get down from the bench. On solid ground, he looks up at David through his lashes - oh he’s a good bit shorter than him, which David was not expecting and is kind of… into? - squeezes David’s upper arm - _is this man flirting? At an organised run? That he seems to be in charge of?_ \- and plasters that adorable smirk back on his face once again.

“Thanks, man. Have a nice run!”

And this guy honest to god jogs away from him in his blue vest, matching button-up, straight leg Levis and hiking boots, shouting at someone named Bob to keep the runners off the pavement. He’s even holding a blue clipboard. Alexis shoots a confused, but somehow still shit-eating grin at him, and frankly David would be more annoyed if it wasn’t 8:57am, rendering him still basically half asleep, and if the guy didn’t have a really, really nice ass. It might even be enough to sustain him through all 3.1 miles of running.


	2. Run Out of Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick makes a dash for it.

Three months prior to David’s first parkrun - the day after Valentine’s Day in fact - Patrick Brewer had packed up two boxes of almost entirely blue clothing, a few unread books and some miscellaneous sports memorabilia into his small silver Kia, and left thirty years of his life behind in a small town a couple of hours north of Toronto. It’s not a brave decision - at least he doesn’t believe so as his hands shake at the wheel - it’s just that the balance of effort taken to continue to live the life set out for him had finally outweighed the effort needed to pull himself out of its grasp, until leaving it all behind was the only conceivable path left to take. 

He’d proposed on Valentine’s Day. It was a horrible, horrible cliche - one he had almost hoped Rachel would see through for the cop-out it was. But she’d squealed in delight when she’d spotted the ring - a solid ring, a nice ring, which had cost exactly the ratio of his salary the internet said he should invest in it - at the bottom of the champagne glass, and gasped out a litany of “yes”es. She hadn’t even waited for him to put the ring on - she’d been so eager she’d done it herself. He guessed she’d had the right to - after fifteen years on and off, sitting through at least two mutual friends weddings a year for the past five years, it had been the step he’d needed to take, the next leap to leap - the next rung on the ladder of the quiet, suburban life plotted out for him.

And then, then, the next morning he’d woken up to see it, glistening in the dawn sunlight, hand slung across her hip as she slept and his stomach had churned. That ring, it meant forever. It meant more decades, a promise of a lifetime - no one in his family had even ever gotten divorced. It meant, a few years down the line, children that were half him and half her, that bound them together, inextricably. A responsibility that would always tie him to this life. And he loved her, he did, he loved her so much, she’d been his best friend for two decades, but he didn’t love her enough for that. It was an internal argument he’d had many times before, where his head had always eventually won out over his gut instinct, over his heart. He’d overthought his way back into her life a dozen times. Now, his head spins, his breath stuttering, gasping. He locks himself in their bathroom and panics for a solid half hour, shallow breaths almost ratcheting up into sobs, drowned out by the running of the shower. He needs to get out.

By the time he calms down, Rachel's up, puttering around, talking about telling people and venues and RSVPs. He excuses himself, drives around, parks in a grocery store car park and has another panic attack curled up in the driver's seat. He returns to their apartment once he knows she’d be out - a cowardly escape. With his bags packed, a note left on the side, a note that explains too little and is so much less than she deserves, he drives away. He’d walked away from her before - to his parents, a friend, a cousin - but never far enough. This time he runs.

***

The thing about suddenly packing up your life and running away from everything you’ve ever known, is that it's absolutely the most terrifying thing in the world. So Patrick doesn’t think about it. He knows if he thinks too much about it he'll panic some more and turn back. He doesn’t think about where he’s going. He just drives in a direction - he could have ended up anywhere really - but he ends up in Toronto, in another parking garage, digging the recesses of his brain for anyone he knows who doesn’t know everyone else he knows. His brain finally settles on the vague remembrance of a man he’d met at a tax seminar in Toronto last year, a man with so many businesses Patrick would have been sure he’d been running some kind of money laundering outfit, if it weren’t for the fact the man - Ray - had come across as the most genuine, overly honest man he’d ever met. Patrick had taken a photo of his business card, and now scrolls through the past six months of his phone's photo album to find it, past screenshots of rings and backlit selfies with people he’d left behind.

Sitting in a car in a parking lot with nowhere else to go, Patrick’s too exhausted to be self conscious. Calling Ray, a strange concept any other day of the week, is in the end just one more ridiculous thing he finds himself doing today. Ray picks up, thankfully, and Patrick struggles through an explanation that somehow communicates how desperate he is but also normal he’s being while also trying not to set off another panic attack. Ray accepts it at face value, barely asks him a single question, and throws him a lifeline,

“Actually Patrick, I have a spare room I’d be more than happy to rent out if you need somewhere to stay.”

Patrick’s breath hitches. 

“Yeah, that would be great, thanks. Thank you, Ray.”

Ray hums absent-mindedly, gives him the address, “See you soon, Patrick.”

Patrick gets to Ray’s less than twelve hours after he’d woken up beside the woman he’d been supposed to marry. He accepts a kind hug from Ray, who hovers and chats without expecting much back. It’s a comforting buzz and they end up watching old Dragons’ Den reruns, casually judging each business idea until Patrick’s eyelids start to droop and he excuses himself. 

Upstairs, Patrick turns his phone off, having ignored it all day. He changes, brushes his teeth and takes in the rose patterned wallpaper in Ray’s spare room. It’s comforting, to know as soon as he sees this wallpaper tomorrow morning he’ll know he’s beginning a completely different life. As soon as his head hits the pillow, he’s asleep.

***

A month later, the change is sticking. He’d eventually turned his phone back on to text sincere apologies to his parents for worrying them, and to tell them he needed space and time away from all of it. He’d never asked for that before, time apart from anyone other than Rachel, and it’s a painful effort to stop himself spinning back into her orbit. It’s hard to communicate that to his parents though. What’s he supposed to say, “If I call you I’m worried I might go back to the woman who’s loved me relatively unconditionally for fifteen years, and I know if I do that somewhere down the line I will almost certainly personally implode but I have no idea why.”

Ray introduces him to some of his friends at a poker night and then, on Patrick’s suggestion because he’s incredibly competitive but horrendous at poker, games nights and even once, memorably, a karaoke night. He tries out for a local baseball team, finds hockey games to watch, book clubs to join. He starts doing a bit of business consulting, thinks about what he wants to do, really, instead of the tried and tested family route of accountancy exams and stable insurance jobs. He dives into it all with all the enthusiasm of Ray filing new business incorporation forms. He fills his time and then some, creating a routine, some personal stability separate from every familiarity he’d known his whole life.

He doesn’t date, it’s too soon. If fact he finds he doesn’t even think about it. The idea of meeting up with random women from dating apps is slightly repulsive, really. It’s just such an impersonal way to meet someone, he tells himself.

***

It’s Ronnie who mentions parkrun about six weeks into his tenancy at Ray’s, complaining about a dearth of volunteers to Bob, who regularly mans one of the scanning machines. She explains it to Patrick, very patiently, like he’s a five year old child, over a game of Catan. She likes winding him up, so he just grins as she talks about barcodes and tokens and the complexities of corralling adults hopped up on endorphins. When she’s done he smirks, plays a Knight card and offers to help her out. She groans, but agrees. 

“You better not fuck up, Brewer.”

“Oh, I have a record for being very reliable.” It’s true - he’s the guy who fills out paperwork on time and never misses a baseball game.

“Says the man who mysteriously packed up his entire life one day to come live in Ray’s spare room.” She needles, but her eyes are kinder than normal. It still smarts a little, but it’s true. He appreciates that: the people he surrounds himself with nowadays are more likely to be honest and risk sticking both feet in their mouth than tell him a well-intentioned but dangerous lie. 

“Ouch, Ronnie.” But he grins back. She wins the game in the end.

***

His first time, he runs it.

He hasn’t run off-treadmill for a few years - he’d run a half marathon once as part of a group of his cousins raising charity money, but not regularly since. He’s fit enough from the gym, baseball and the odd hike to pull in a decent time, but more than that, the running sharpens all the feelings he’s had in the past few months. The sun warms his skin, the gentle breeze dances along his exposed limbs. The speed he picks up, every breath he exhales feels freeing, in the same way he’s felt settling into town. He’s literally breathing out, for what feels like the first time in years.

He manages a sprint finish at the end to whooping cheers from the finish line volunteers, and it’s a perfect moment; the kind he might dream about later. In the cafe, he’s introduced to the rest of the volunteers: Roland and Jocelyn and their two kids: one, a toddler, not old enough to run yet, the other a man around his age, apparently dragged into volunteering as part of his community service. He meets Ted the vet, Twyla who owns the cafe, a group of women who run every week - “they sing carols at Christmas time”, Ronnie explains - Ivan, Wendy, a couple of regular kids doing some volunteer thing for school. It’s nice - they eat a variety of varyingly edible things from the menu, chat about their lives and sort the finish tokens. Patrick’s glad to have come. He slots it into his weekly calendar.

It’s nice to finally feel like he’s running towards something, instead of away.

***

Patrick’s both an overachiever and a team player. So naturally, he’s running the thing two months after hearing about it for the first time. He’s got his head around all the volunteer roles, studied the literature - there were spreadsheets - and is quite frankly just sure of himself enough to trust he’s not going to screw up being in charge of an organised fun run for a couple hundred people on a Saturday morning. He’s got Ronnie and Bob for backup, the sun is shining and all the volunteers turn out. It’s a beautiful day, even before David Rose shows up.

***

Ted had mentioned in their weekly baseball meet-up that he’d be bringing his girlfriend and her brother that weekend. Waiting to bat, Ted described how the Roses had once owned a video empire before losing pretty much all their money by way of a corrupt business manager, stranding them in their Toronto lake house, which to be honest sounded a lot better than Patrick’s living arrangement. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t mention my employment history then.” Ted’s eyes widen and he shakes his head, genuinely concerned. 

“Oh no, I’m sure they’d be totally fine with it! I technically own the clinic and Alexis has never said anything.”

Patrick chuckles, “It’s fine, Ted. I’m sure they’re nice.”

At that Ted winces, “I mean… they’re good?” Patrick bursts into laughter at the look on Ted’s face. These people, who Ted can’t even claim to be particularly nice and yet seem to have attached themselves to him on a fairly permanent basis? He’s intrigued.

***

And well.

Patrick’s not got experience in the department, evident from the situation he now finds himself in, but he’s pretty sure standing on a bench speaking to a group of people is not the best time to make the tentative realisation he might be gay. But his eyes flick over the pretty blonde woman waving for his attention to the man pulling her hand down beside her, and although his face is contorted into an eye-rolling grimace, he’s the most stunning person Patrick’s ever seen.

Despite the early hour and circumstances, the man’s hair is perfectly styled, skin glowing. He’s wearing a black t-shirt that’s tight enough to pull across his wide chest and biceps, and long shorts that make no attempt to cover shapely calves dusted with dark hair. And, ok, that’s a vaguely new feeling.

Luckily years of theatre club acting let Patrick recover quickly from his world-shifting revelation, so he doesn’t trip over his words and is able to make it to the end of the briefing without embarrassing himself too much. He’s trying so hard to ignore the mild to moderate gay panic going on that he awkwardly doesn’t get down from the table, fumbles his way through an introduction to the beautiful, funny man - _David_ , he’s told - and then uses the hand he’s shaking to get down from the bench.

His other hand lands on David’s bicep, and his breath catches in his throat a little bit at the feeling of the soft, smooth skin over the hard muscle. It’s all he can do to wish him well on his run and get over to the start line in time for the main briefing before 9am.

The adrenaline only wears off once the runners have set off and he and Bob start to walk over to the finish area. Bob’s mumbling sadly about his wife’s latest escapades, while Patrick takes stock of the last fifteen minutes of his life.

Wow. Well, that would certainly explain some things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a lot of feelings about Patrick! Also, I like this head-canon of how on earth Patrick ended up staying with Ray, and the idea of Patrick being inducted into a little bit of the unique Schitt's Creek weirdness at a business seminar even before he moved. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Run Your Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David runs his first parkrun and visits the cafe.

David makes it around the course thanks to Alexis, Mariah Carey and the prospect of a sizable breakfast. The park is nice too - the course is mercifully flat, his running outfit is perfect both sartorially and in terms of optimal running body temperature, and he knows the fresh air will do wonders for his skin. Before he knows it, he’s crossing the finish line, being ushered down a long funnel that makes him think somewhat wistfully of his early teenage years when he still had to queue for clubs, and being handed a token by the excitable man he’d met earlier. 

“Well done, David!” With a thanks and a slightly exhilarated grin that he will deny was ever on his face, David takes the token - 113 - and heads over to another volunteer, a bored looking black woman in a hi-vis vest over a polo shirt. When the token doesn’t scan, she waves a hand in the air and yells, far, far too loudly for a still somewhat quiet park,

“Patrick!”

The guy he’d inadvertently held the hand of before comes jogging over unnecessarily enthusiastically. 

“Need help there, Ronnie? Oh, hi.” The smirk on his face, directed at Ronnie, whose eyes are narrowed at Patrick, disappears as he sets eyes on David. David catches a flash of panic in his (loud) eyes, before his entire face settles into a soft grin. It’s weird - David’s pretty sure no one’s ever looked at him like that, and he’s done nothing to warrant the attention. In fact, he thinks, quickly running a hand casually through his hair, he almost certainly looks like a sweaty, red-faced mess.

“Hi.” David waves his token at him. Ronnie rolls her eyes,

“It’s not scanning. You’ll need to write both the numbers down and input manually later.” Patrick tilts his head dryly at her, mouth pulled into a sarcastic, slightly cocky smirk. 

“Thanks, Ronnie. I did read the very clear instructions.” 

“Just makin’ sure, newbie.” She waves them both away, entirely unruffled.

“Uh, if I can just take that for you.” They do a little hand dance, in which David tries to give him the wrong piece of plastic, as Patrick reaches for the right one. It’s awkward, especially in comparison to the cocksureness Patrick had displayed literally a minute ago, and Patrick huffs out a laugh. His head ducks down, slightly shyly, and David is intrigued. He’s been flirted with, wanted, before, sure, but not in the way that throws people off, makes them fumble and stumble the way this man he barely knows is doing now. David tentatively extends an olive branch,

“Do you make it a habit to check in on all the new recruits?” 

“Recruits? I mean, we’re not a cult.” Patrick’s mouth pulls into a smile, his eyes wide and warm. 

“Could have fooled me with the matching t-shirts. Not sure how you’d get that many people wearing polyester without a little brain-washing.”

“Ok, maybe a little bit of a cult. A very healthy and friendly one, though.”

“Oh that’s good. I was in a very unhealthy, unfriendly cult for a brief time and that didn’t work out well for me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. We mostly just deal in running and cake.”

“Well, that’s a much better pitch than the one Tom Cruise gave me at the 2005 Met Gala.” Patrick grins then, a full face of it, and wow, David’s enjoying this. He’s only ever met a few people who could match his conversational style shot for shot right off the bat, mostly Stevie and Alexis really, and it’s astonishing to just bump into someone who leans into it, into him, so easily and genuinely.

“So, uh, how was your first parkrun?”

“It was good, actually. A delightfully flat course.”

“Yeah, we get that a lot.”

“A distinct lack of medals at the finish line though.”

“Well, the budget’s not what it used to be.” Patrick, having remembered what he’d pulled David over for in the first place, finishes jotting down the numbers and looks back up at him.

“Are you heading over to the cafe? No medals, but probably cake.” 

“Mm? Oh, yes. Alexis bribed me with the promise of as many waffles I can eat.”

“Sweet, see you there.” Patrick slaps him on the arm gently, teasingly, with his clipboard, and jogs over to where Bob’s been trying to get his attention for the last five minutes.

***

The cafe is rammed with people, but fortunately Alexis had bounced around the course quickly enough, and not spent ten minutes flirting with the run director, to bag them a booth. The menu is appallingly under-curated, but Alexis has already ordered him some waffles and bought him a coffee, in a surprisingly generous gesture. A suspiciously generous gesture. Sure enough, she pokes Ted out the booth to go get them some more sugar sachets, leaning back and twirling a stray piece of hair around her finger, staring at him attentively.

“Sooooo…”

“So?”

“I saw you outside, chatting with Patrick.” She elongates and enunciates the first syllable of Patrick's name in a way that tells David that this conversation is exactly why he’s being given the Alexis Rose VIP treatment. 

“Yes, I told him he was running a cult.”

“And?”

“And my barcode didn’t scan so he was sorting it out. You might want to reconfigure your printer.” David narrows his eyes and smiles at her dismissively, turning his attention back to the menu. Who puts sushi and mozzarella sticks in a breakfast platter?

Alexis leans over to tap on the laminated plastic of the menu to get his attention. Her finger lands right next to “pistachio, chocolate and popping candy croissant croquembouche”. 

“I asked Ted and he says he’s really nice. Moved here mysteriously a few months ago, does some kind of business stuff with Ray. Ted said to tell you he’s very trustworthy though and would definitely never run away with all our money like Eli did.”

“Ok, Alexis, I don’t care. And Ted thinks everyone’s nice as long as they’ve never abandoned an animal in a dark alleyway.” Alexis just smirks at him and bats her eyelashes.

“What?”

“You like him!”

“I just met him! And whatever. Did you see what he was wearing? He’s not into me.”

“Um, David. He completely ignored me to flirt with you.” She boops him on the nose just as Ted eases his way back into the booth with a handful of sugar sachets and a bag of finish tokens.

“Thanks, babe.”

“Hi David! I said I’d sort these, so…” Ted starts laying them out methodically into hundreds and then tens. Alexis attempts to help,

“You’d better double check her work, Ted. Alexis isn’t the best at counting.” Alexis scrunches her face up in her way that’s basically the equivalent of giving him the finger. A cough beside him jerks David from his reverie of imagining all the ways he could set his sisters hair extensions on fire. 

“Hey, do you mind if I slide in? Pretty sure this is the only seat left in this place.” It’s Patrick, of course it is, because the universe hates him. 

“Sure, Patrick.” Alexis sticks her hand out, “I’m Alexis Rose, David’s sister, Ted’s girlfriend, and overall a hashtag girl boss in my own right.” David rolls his eyes, but it’s an accurate enough description that he doesn’t dispute it.

Patrick gracefully accepts Alexis’s outstretched hand with a chuckle and shakes it, while also juggling a backpack, a laptop and a cup of tea in his hands,

“Nice to formally meet you, Alexis. Ted’s told me a lot about you.”

“Oh he has, has he?” But Alexis is looking back at Ted, making little cute kissy faces at him. David groans, but if he’s going to put up with his sister and her boyfriend being gross at least he doesn’t have to do it alone. He slides along the seat to make room for Patrick.

“Thanks. Sorry, Ronnie usually saves me a seat.” It’s only once Patrick’s settled, laptop open in front of him, tea settled on the table, frowning at the screen that David realises he’s literally trapped with nowhere to go. 

“So, whatcha doing?”

“I’m just processing the results. See, you have to upload the runners times and the scanners and then pull them all together to get everything to match. It’s like a little puzzle.” Patrick is adorably earnest, it’s actually pretty cute.

“Cute.” Fuck, he wasn’t supposed to say that out loud. Patrick looks a bit startled, his eyes meeting David’s and then he ducks his head a bit and the tips of his ears go red.  _ Fuck, stop making the straight man uncomfortable, David. _

“Could you just hold this?” Patrick hands him the largest, clunkiest looking stopwatch David’s ever seen in his life.

“Wow, what is this?” 

“Now see that is a relic, we’ve been using that for ten years. Or so I’m told.”

David helps Patrick with all the odds and ends - the cables, handing him things to plug in. They work well together, falling into a natural synchronicity, at least until David gets distracted by breakfast.

“That is a lot of waffles.”

“Well, I just ran a 5k at an ungodly hour of the morning, on a weekend, so I’d appreciate a little less judgement.”

“No judgement here, I’m just a bit jealous. You seem to have found something on this menu that’s actually edible right off the bat. It took me like four whole meals.”

It’s sweet enough - complimenting David’s taste is his love language - that it almost makes David offer him a bite, but he’s David Rose and he’s pretty sure he’d actually have to be married and therefore legally obligated to share his food before that happens. Instead, Patrick pulls out a gross-looking protein bar out of the backpack and digs into that. They eat silently, aside from occasional happy, and entirely inadvertent, moans from David that turns Patrick’s ears pink again, Patrick fiddling around on the laptop. 

“I’m just going to double check this with Ronnie. Be right back.” Patrick excuses himself, squeezing David’s knee as he stands up, taking the laptop with him. David smiles at him in surprise around his fork. Alexis stares at him from across the table,

“What?” David mouths. Ted, much politer and kinder than his girlfriend, just raises his eyebrows at the table, smiling as he continues to sort the tokens.

Patrick comes back  _ sans  _ laptop, smiling to himself. 

“Sorry - all done with that.” He starts packing up the rest of the equipment haphazardly into the backpack.

“Did you get it right?” David arches an eyebrow teasingly. 

“Yep, first time lucky. All the runners were very well behaved today.”

“Oh, they were?”

“Yeah, usually we have problems with complete newbies, but even they behaved themselves this week.”

David raises the other eyebrow and his lips quirk in an effort to suppress a smile. Alexis kicks him under the table.

“So, do you do this every week, Patrick?” Alexis asks.

“Um, this was my first time in charge, I run or volunteer every week though. How about you guys?” 

“Sure!” Alexis nods enthusiastically. David hums,

“Ok, see the thing is I don’t really early mornings, especially on weekends. Or running, really. Or… people. In general. Usually.” In all fairness, it’s a sentence said with a lot more qualifiers than David would normally use.

“Oh, ok, right. That’s fair.” Patrick sounds almost disappointed. Alexis frowns at David from across the booth.

“I mean, maybe. I won’t completely rule it out.” God, considering the activity involved, it’s the most commitment he’s ever expressed in his whole thirty-something years. 

“Ok, well if you ever want to volunteer, the email will be on the results email we send out. We can always use an extra pair of hands.” Patrick smiles tentatively and stands up. “It was really nice to meet you both.” He hesitates slightly before waving awkwardly and going over to say goodbye to the main crowd of parkrunners, handing the backpack over to Ronnie, who slaps him on the back familiarly. David watches him go, unsure of what else to do.

***

Stevie  
  
**Today** 11:15 AM  
SOS  
fuck.  
fuck, fuck, fuck  
make that two pepperoni pizzas.  



	4. Interlude: Words With Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stevie and David get high and eat an astounding amount of food, like best friends do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically this is an interlude instead of a proper chapter, Patrick will return with his POV next chapter, but Stevie wanted a look in and David deserved the pizza after all that exercise and flirting. Unbeta'd as per.

When Stevie opens the door to her apartment, David’s draped himself over the doorframe melodramatically, an unopened bottle of wine cradled in his arms. By now, three months into the most solid friendship she’s ever built on the foundations of a drunken one night stand and very used to David’s dramatics, Stevie just raises her eyebrows at him and grabs the bottle.

“Mmm, a very nice wine pairing for the pizza and grass.” 

“I try.”

“So what’s with this?” She gestures at his general state as he flings himself into the apartment, briefly distracted by her interior decoration.

“Is that… a Sarah McLauhlan poster?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, we’ll discuss that later.” 

Humouring him, Stevie nods as she distributes the bottle evenly between two huge wine glasses. She hands one to him, clanking them together, “Cheers.”

David takes a big gulp and swings himself onto the couch, “So, have you ordered the pizza?” 

“Of course I have, I know you’re only about fifteen minutes away from getting hangry.”

“Ugh, you know me so well.” 

“I try.” 

***

Once they’ve polished off pretty much all the pizza, all the wine and half a spliff, Stevie swings back around to the previously abandoned topic,

“So what was with the fucks?”   
  
David swings his head around, “Back on that again? I thought we’d talked all that out?” 

Stevie dissolves into a fit of giggles at his alarmed face, “No, the text fucks.” She holds out her phone to remind him. “I thought maybe the combination of exercise, an early morning and Alexis had actually polished you off.”

David rolls his eyes, his whole face really, but he’s smiling, and it’s weird,

“Oh. Um. Yeah, so…”

“What the fuck is your face doing? Are you smiling?” She grabs his chin with a hand and leans closer as if to inspect it.

“Ugh. It was nothing, I just met this guy there who was very nice, but is almost certainly straight and not into me. And who I’ll probably never see again anyway, so.”

Stevie frowns at David’s slightly lost little face, wondering how on earth a guy had made that much of an impression in a couple of hours on David, who had slept with what sounded like half the population of lower Manhattan.

“Maybe he is into you. What did Alexis think?”

Despite having only met Alexis a couple of times, Stevie knows her to be a perilously perceptive person. Specifically concerning the mess of David’s love life, Stevie would trust her judgement over his over-thought self-consciousness every time.

David doesn’t reply but his poker face is utter shite, pinching in an attempt to chase away a hopeful smile. Stevie raises her eyebrows, 

“Ok, well maybe you should at least try. You’re literally doing nothing else with your life at the moment, why not chase a cute boy around a running… track?”

David’s face worries into something else then, and he deflects,

“You know what I could really do with my life at the moment? Dessert.”

It’s Stevie’s turn to roll her eyes, but she gets up from the sofa to get a pint of ice cream and two spoons. They settle in, watching their unanimously voted favourite bad film - Breaking Dawn Part 2 - and the topic is dropped. But Stevie’s eyes land on David looking wistfully at Bella and Edward making gooey eyes at each other, and she thinks: maybe she likes this for him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They were going to watch The Room but then I was like you know what, David wants at least a little romance and Stevie's not in this friendship enough yet to watch a Sandra Bullock vehicle with him.


	5. Take a Hike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As promised: Patrick takes a hike.

Sunday finds Patrick accidentally awake at 5am, having slept intermittently and lightly. It’s early enough to go for a dawn hike, something he hasn’t done since the last time he’d broken up with Rachel. It had helped to clear his head, the lack of cell service also a huge bonus, even if that jaunt to find himself hadn’t yet stuck. This time, the mess in his head is a far more welcome one. 

Slightly overwhelmed, he’d distracted himself the rest of Saturday: a baseball game to watch, paperwork to sort out, laundry, cleaning, catching up on podcasts. It had been a successful exercise in avoidance, a subject he should probably have an honorary degree in. Now, faced with the whispers of a new day, Patrick laces up his thickest-soled hiking boots and for maybe the first time in his life makes a concentrated effort to work through his shit. 

It’s not wholly successful: as he climbs he tries to sift through the events of the past few months, but he just keeps getting stuck on David. David, mussed hair from running. David, flushed and teasing. David, methodically making his way through a gigantic stack of blueberry waffles. The way his eyes lit up the exact same way when Patrick started teasing him as when he saw his breakfast. The way his t-shirt pulled across his chest and his shorts across his thighs. 

Patrick resists the urge to shake himself out of his daydreaming. Sure, it’s silly - barely a cumulative hour with a man he may never see again and he’s questioning some fairly fundamental things about himself that he’s taken for granted for thirty years. But being sensible hasn’t really worked out for him so far in life. Patrick makes a pact with himself there and then: he’s going to try pretty much anything to get David’s attention, to be around him as much as he can, to find out what the spark he felt between them means.

He reaches the peak with an action plan, a plan B and a secondary back up plan C. It’s taken him a few decades to reach this point, but he doesn’t want to waste a week more. He sits on a conveniently placed log, takes out his sandwich and a thermos of tea, sipping it as he watches the sun rise in the sky. Just before he gets up to head back down he frowns into the empty thermos, murmurs,

“I think I might be gay.”

It’s a nice relief to put the thought out there into the universe. It rings true. The lid goes back on the thermos, a secret just for Patrick and his thermos to hold close for now, and he returns to the trail. 

***

Step one of Patrick’s plan involves weaseling as much information out of Ted about David as possible. Fortunately, they both have a baseball game that afternoon. What Patrick was not counting on was Alexis Rose. Who is currently spectating and wiggling her fingers at him in a wave from the stands, wearing the largest sun hat he’s ever seen. Ted grins over at her, waving emphatically. Patrick gives her a decidedly more hesitant wave. 

“You guys are hanging around together a lot.” Patrick observes. Ted’s face lights up.

“Yeah, I really like her.” 

“That’s great, man.” It is, they’re cute together, and sometimes Ted looks at her like he’s staring into the sun. “And hey, thanks for coming along yesterday, it was nice to have some moral support.” 

Ted raises his eyebrows and looks at him knowingly, 

“Yeah, she said she and David both really enjoyed it.”

“Really? He didn’t seem too enthused about coming back.” Patrick attempts to sound very casual, but he’s not sure he manages it.

“Pretty sure he’s not really into the whole running thing. Alexis said she bribed him to get him out the house.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, the losing all their money thing sounds like it’s been pretty rough.”

“The business manager thing?” Ted hums in affirmation,

“Their dad used to own Rose Video? You remember?”

“I used to work there in high school actually.” Patrick admits. Ted laughs as he jogs away to bat.

“You should tell Alexis that, she’ll love it.”

Patrick gets the opportunity to do so later, after the game. 

“Hi, Patrick.” Alexis holds out a hand for him to shake again, stroking his a little when he takes it. She seems to approve of whatever she’s looking for because her eyes scrunch up and twinkle at him in a smile.

“Nice to see you again, Alexis.”

“Hey, Alexis, did you know Patrick used to work at a Rose Video in high school?” Ted interjects. Alexis’s eyes widen and she slaps his arm lightly.

“Oh my god, no way, Patrick! How cute! Where?”

“Um, the branch in Elm Ridge. Where my parents live.” And me, too, up until about three months ago, he adds silently.

“A small town! How cute. Do you go back much?” 

“No, not really. Busy, you know.” He self-consciously rubs the back of his head.

“Right, Ted said you’d only just moved here! Do you like the big city life?”

“Well, it’s a change, you know? I needed one.” Alexis narrows her eyes in interest at him.

“Well I am not that well acquainted with Toronto yet, due to my former career as a child model, but David lived here a lot when he was a teenager. I’m sure he’d be happy to show you around some time. If you’d like.” Patrick smiles.

“That sounds nice, actually.” Alexis reaches her hand out for his phone and inputs both her and David’s numbers into it. She gives it back with a fluttery wink.

“No presh, but you should definitely text him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

***

Step two involved acquiring David’s phone number, so Alexis’s intervention was a welcome, if surprising, one. Step three? Text him. 

Patrick sits on his bed, taking deep breaths, staring at his phone as if willing David to text him first. Which isn’t going to happen, because David doesn’t have his number. This was supposed to be the easiest part of his plan.

Hi, it’s Patrick, from yesterday? Your sister gave me your number  
  
hi Patrick from Yesterday  
  
ugh sorry  
  
she likes forcing my number on unsuspecting people sometimes  
  
Heads up, she’s pimping you out as a Toronto tour guide atm  
  
makes sense  
  
to her I mean  
  
dw, I can make up an excuse so you don’t have to do that  
  
Oh ok  
  
I mean, I have a day off on Thursday and nothing to do  
  
If you’re free  
  
Otherwise I’ll have to resort to something far less appealing  
  
Like an online tax seminar  
  
Or helping Ray with his new closet organisation business  
  
glad you find the idea of my company more appealing than either of those things  
  
I am free  
  
but do not expect me to go to the hockey hall of fame with you  
  
Don’t worry David  
  
Visited that my first day here  
  
gross  
  
ok, there’s a new exhibit I want to see at AGO  
  
and maybe a market and we can go to high park if we have the time  
  
considering how much you evidently like to be outside  
  
Sounds great 👍🏻  
  


Step four had been to persuade David back to parkrun, but this works just as well, Patrick thinks. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: the boys tour Toronto in what I affectionately am referring to as their 12-hour big lesbian date (which isn't a date). I didn't even plan this, they just did it themselves (with a little bit of help from Alexis, and my pining for a good date atm).
> 
> Please comment/leave kudos if you're enjoying! I love reading your kind comments so much 🥺


	6. Ready to Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David tour guides for Patrick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never been to Toronto so apologies for anything that's wildly off-base.

David’s apprehensive to say the least about meeting up with Patrick. He’d given Alexis an earful on Sunday about respecting boundaries and not sticking her tiny little nose into people’s private business, let alone giving a practical stranger his phone number on a whim. He spends the whole week trying not to think about his commitment to spending a full several hours with a nice, probably straight man he has a bit of a crush on but otherwise barely knows. Who’s almost certainly just meeting up with David as a favour for his sister. Or, god forbid, out of pity. 

They agree to meet at the entrance to the Art Gallery of Ontario at 1pm. As Patrick approaches him, perfectly on time, David fidgets, playing with the rings on his hands nervously. Before Patrick can speak David’s blurting out,

“You know, you didn’t have to agree to this. I know my sister has her way of charming people into doing stuff, but I could definitely still make up an excuse for you if you want to go.” Patrick chuckles and frowns at him, hands in his pockets.

“Hello to you too, David.” He teases. It throws David off a little in terms of his general spiralling.

“Um, hi, Patrick.” 

“David, I fully intend on taking advantage of your tour guide skills.” Patrick pauses, places his hands firmly on David’s shoulders and makes eye contact. “And I’m not doing this for your sister.” David can feel his head bobbing as he nods self-consciously, sufficiently reassured.

He perks up after that, with the additional aid of a large macchiato from the stand outside. He tours Patrick around his favourite wings of the gallery, pointing out some of the artworks he remembers from when he was a kid. They buy tickets to a Hockney exhibition, which is marvellous, David’s hands flapping at his sides excitedly as he explains the nuances of each painting to Patrick, who looks at him in a bemused but kind sort of way.

“So this is what you used to do? Gallery curating?” David turns away from _The Splash_ to look at Patrick, who looks genuinely interested. 

“Yeah. I worked with artists and pulled together and showcased exhibitions.”

“Would you want to do it again?” Patrick asks. David screws his face up in contemplation. He hadn’t even considered it - it wasn’t a life he’d want to return to, or necessarily even be in in the end. 

“No, actually. I love art, and it was good for a few years, but no. I don’t have the money anyway, or any connections here. It’s really more about buying people out than anything.” He sits down on one of the museum benches. 

Patrick sits down beside him, “So do you have any idea what you do want to do?”

“That is a very quick judgement on my tour guiding business”, David smiles. “Maybe, no, I don’t know.” It’s easier to deflect than go too deeply into that. “How about you? Are you going to keep working for Ray and living in his spare room forever?” Patrick chuckles.

“Believe it or not, that wasn’t the plan.”

“You do seem like the kind of guy with plans.” At that Patrick winces, almost imperceptibly. 

“Yeah I did, actually. I had some uh, pretty big plans. Not anymore.”

David frowns concernedly, incredibly curious. He nods at Patrick to go on,

“I guess I never stopped to consider whether they were my plans, or someone else's. I’m doing that now, I’m thinking things through.”

“Yeah? What are you thinking now?”

“I’m thinking, I’m glad I came here.” David smiles at that, a small, soft smile. He quirks his lips to the side to hide it but he can feel Patrick’s eyes on him, before they shift behind him to a quartet of paintings on the wall: a series of vivid pictures capturing the same path across all four seasons. Patrick gets up to inspect them closer, David following a few paces behind him. David’s seen them before, but never in person. They’re even more beautiful in the flesh.

“I’ve always loved these paintings.” 

Patrick smiles over at him, “Go on, give me your best art critic spiel.”

“Hm, no. I think these are best enjoyed at face value. A simple observation of the passing of the seasons. A reminder that time marches on. Things change, but they can still be beautiful.” Patrick reaches between them to squeeze David’s hand in his own, just for a second.

For the first time, David allows himself to truly believe that his future can have better things in store for him than his past.

***

They visit St. Lawrence Market next, to stock up on mid-afternoon park snacks. David had forgotten how diverse and incredible the Market is: he wants to buy something edible from pretty much every stall on site before he’s reminded of his much diminished budget. They end up with a selection guided mostly by David’s (excellent) taste: a bagful of Portuguese custard tarts, a box of macarons, a bottle of white wine and a selection of cheese and crackers to drag with them as snacks to the park. David insists on Patrick trying some sushi - “bet they didn’t have that in your small town!”, and buys them both warm pretzels to eat as they browse.

As they move onto the non-food stalls, David looks at the vendors thoughtfully, takes a deep breath and opens his mouth, 

“I think maybe I’d like to start my own business?” Patrick looks up from where he’d been reading about different kinds of CBD oil infused jam with a bemused look on his face, “I’m not sure how good my idea is though, or how on earth I’d manage it.” 

“Didn’t you run the galleries?” 

David sighs and bites his lip, “Um, I thought I did, but when they repossessed everything I found out that my parents kind of owned the galleries, and pretty much all the art, and all the artists too. So I didn’t exactly manage it on my own. At all, really.”

It still stings, a lot. Maybe more so than anything else that had happened to them in the last several months. Patrick looks somewhat horrified, presumably at David’s ability to get to thirty-something with no tenable career path or anything to show for it.

“Yeah, I’m not the best investor bet. I don’t even know if I have any marketable skills at all, really.” 

Patrick’s still fucking staring at him, eyes wide and sad.

“Your parents - they didn’t tell you that? That they owned it all?”

“No.” David shrugs. “I guess they never expected it to all blow up in their faces. I thought when they lost the money, I'd be fine, I'd still have the galleries. But, obviously not.” 

Patrick curls a hand around David's elbow comfortingly, “David, they shouldn't have done that. Or they should have least told told you. I’m sorry, that must have sucked.”

“Okay, yes, it totally did. Not to be dramatic, but it kind of feels like the life I had six months ago was just a collection of big, fat lies.”

“Well, believe it or not, I can somewhat relate to that.” David scoffs, but Patrick looks serious.

“Either way, thank you for validating my emotions.”

“Any time.” Patrick gives him a small, fond smile, like he actually means it.

“You shouldn’t say that, you will definitely regret it.” 

Patrick laughs at him delightedly through a mouthful of soft, warm pretzel.

***

Evidently after a couple of glasses of wine in the park Patrick’s feeling slightly emboldened to continue their conversation.

“You should tell me about your business idea, by the way. I went to business school.” He says it slightly cockily as he bites down on a cracker, like getting an MBA is his equivalent of scoring an exclusive invitation to the Met Gala after party. 

“I know, Ted assured me that despite your career path you’d never run off with all my assets, however meagre they may be.”

“Well, I’m not sure what I’d do with a bunch of very expensive monochrome sweaters anyway.”

David squints his eyes a bit at Patrick, sizing him up. Patrick’s got some background in small business management, and, maybe more importantly, he actually trusts him to tell him the truth about it, instead of meaninglessly placating him or paying him off.

“Did you want to hear my idea or not?”

“I’m all ears.”

“So, it’s a store? Kind of a general store, but with a very specific premise. I’d source independent products from local vendors and sell them on consignment under my own brand.”

“That’s… actually a very good business idea. Pretty sustainable.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, maybe more so in a smaller location. Closer connections to the vendors.”

“I thought that too - my best friend lives in a town an hour or so away I thought could be a nice spot.” It’s more exciting than David had imagined to actually tell someone his idea. 

“That sounds like a pretty fully formed plan. Have you looked into financial backing?” 

“I have a bit of start up money. Apparently I had some savings that were too pitiful for even the CRA to repossess.”

“Not too pitiful to start up a business?” Patrick takes another swig of wine. 

“The pitiful was in reference to how the money was gained, rather than the amount.” David winces - wow that is really not a story for the first… whatever this is.

“Well, if you ever need any business help, I’m really more than happy to assist.” Patrick glosses over it tactfully, for which David is very grateful.

“Thank you. I will keep that in mind.”

They stay, polishing off almost all the food, until mid-afternoon shifts into late afternoon and the park gets a little chillier, and David regrets not wearing a thicker sweater. 

“Um, would you be interested in getting another drink somewhere?” Patrick asks. “It’s just it’s Ray’s turn to host poker night and I’d rather not show my face. Last time I played Ronnie basically stole the rest of my life savings.” 

“Sure.” The smile on Patrick’s face is enough to keep him warm until they find a nice bar to sit in.

***

The night ends up getting slightly out of hand. In fact, if David is to look back on it, the whole day kind of did. He spends hours with a very cute man, who he actually likes and respects and thinks is nice except when he’s being a little shit, even if he’d only just met him the previous Saturday. It’s the quickest friendship he’s ever formed, aside from the one with Stevie, where they’d just insulted each other, fucked and insulted each other some more, somehow stumbling into becoming best friends.

They’re sitting in a booth in a nice, warm bar. David’s very sensible adult alcoholic cocktail is making him feel nice and warm too, as is the gentle heat of Patrick’s smile turned towards him. It’s all very… nice. And warm.

“This has been a good day. I liked today.” He murmurs into his glass.

“Well, cheers to that.” Patrick grins and they clumsily clink their glasses together, 

“Maybe the best day I’ve had in Toronto so far, actually.”

“Really, even better than all those days you’ve successfully run a short distance?” David scowls at Patrick’s gentle mockery.

“There’s still time for you to ruin it, though.” 

Patricks leans closer, “David, can I tell you a secret?” He slurs a little and his eyes are so wide and warm. David can feel his eyes widen in mock intrigue as he anticipates another silly joke from Patrick, even as his heart seems to take several leaps into his throat.

“This has maybe been my favourite day of all time.” Fuck, David can feel his entire face soften involuntarily, as he stares fondly at this lovely man, who likes his business idea and has kind eyes that take up half his face.

“Well, that’s maybe the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.” David whispers. He just wants to kiss the scary, sweet fondness off Patrick’s face. Turn it into something heated, more familiar. Something that can round off this perfect, wonderful day, that they can both discard in the morning, a different kind of experiment for them each. Because this kind fondness is not his life, and he doesn’t know what to do with it. 

Luckily, Patrick spills his drink before David can move in and press him firmly against the wall of the booth. David grabs some napkins and pats Patrick’s chest with them before he can think about it, and then he’s stammering and moving away, fingers slightly sticky.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“David. David, it’s ok.” He grabs David’s hand, running his fingers contemplatively over the knuckles, over his rings. David grapples for another topic to latch onto, anything at all, to stop this, to turn him off before he gets in way, way too deep.

“You want to know where I got my start-up money from?” _Ok, David maybe not that._ Patrick looks up, startled by the abrupt change in topic. David barrels on.

“I sued my ex. He did some really not very nice things and when I couldn’t take him to criminal court I took him to civil court and tried to sue him for everything he had. Which turns out wasn’t a whole lot.” Patrick looks genuinely distraught, struggling for something to say in response. Good, David thinks, everyone knows dirty laundry is distinctly unsexy. He’s off the hook.

“I proposed to my ex-girlfriend on Valentine’s Day and then literally ran away from everything I’ve ever known.“ Well, that’s certainly not what David was expecting to hear. Patrick laughs wetly, still holding onto David’s hand, staring intently at it.

“Figured we were spilling all our secrets. Um, I didn’t love her, couldn’t love her, like that. The way a husband should. I didn’t really realise why until I came here.” He looks right at David then, his eye contact imploring David to see what he’s trying to say without him having to spell it out. David smiles, closes his eyes, laughs lightly, shaking his head. When he opens his eyes again Patrick’s still looking at him like he hung the moon. 

David looks down at their hands and decides that no, if this is going to happen, they deserve better than a first kiss that’s quite this inebriated, that runs the risk of not being remembered in the morning. Instead he pulls Patrick into him, wraps his arms around his shoulders and gives him a long, comforting hug, as Patrick nuzzles slightly wetly into his neck. They fit together in a way David hadn’t predicted, and he thinks maybe it could be the start of something good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my favourite chapter to write, they're so soft.
> 
> The four paintings in the gallery that Patrick likes are the four Hockney paintings featured on the book covers of the UK versions of Ali Smith's seasonal quartet:  
> \- "Early November Tunnel"  
> \- "Winter Tunnel With Snow"  
> \- "Late Spring Tunnel"  
> \- "Early July Tunnel"
> 
> Next chapter: they're back at parkrun!


	7. Run The Risk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s someone’s birthday *Alexis weird winking/blinking face* and they’re all back at parkrun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve finally figured out how long this fic will actually be, how to end it and plotted out the rest of it, so it’s 87% likely it’ll be 10 chapters plus the little interlude between chapters 3 & 4.

Patrick wakes up on Friday morning with a pounding head, sore feet from a day of walking and a half-eaten Portugeuse tart on his bedside table. Ray’s rose patterned wallpaper is basically screaming at him, and he needs to be at work (which is admittedly just downstairs) in half an hour, but he can’t wipe the smile off his face when he thinks of the cause of his hangover. He chuckles into the empty room, shaking his head. 

He really, _really_ likes David Rose.

  
**Today** 08:31 AM   
Just searching for your tour guiding business on Yelp  
  
Definitely a five star review from me  
  
**Today** 11:12 AM   
oh god i’m dying how were you up at 8  
  
you know what they say  
  
a tour guide is only as good as their tour guidee  
  
David, is that your roundabout way of saying you also had a nice time?  
  
I don’t know, is that yours?  
  
I had a really good time yesterday, David  
  
not a nice time?  
  
A good time, David.  
  
We should do it again sometime  
  
If you’d like?  
  
that would be nice  
  


At his desk, Patrick throws his arms in the air in delighted victory and nearly chucks his phone across the room.

**Today** 11:26 AM   
Yes I’m sure it would be  
  
Are you parkrunning tomorrow?  
  
maybe  
  
if I can be persuaded  
  
Not sure I can reach Alexis’s heights of bribery  
  
But I’d like you to come  
  
And also it’s my birthday  
  
So it would really be rude if you didn’t  
  
!!!  
  
i guess that would be fine then  
  
also I will be requiring a photo of your driver's license  
  
just so I know you’re not scamming me  
  
Sounds like a deal  
  
IMG_1089.jpg  
  
Please don’t steal my identity  
  
promise I won’t, Patrick Christopher Brewer  
  


***

Saturday dawns bright and early and Patrick’s milling around the general volunteer area, answering the questions of a few stragglers, when he hears a familiar clearing of the throat.

“Wow, how many colours do those things come in?” David shudders exaggeratedly, glaring at Patrick’s hi-vis, bright orange this time. 

“Just the three colours at the moment, but I’m sure we could expand if you’d like.” 

David’s in a typical black and white ensemble, once again somehow managing to make polyblends look high fashion. It’s a little unseasonably chilly for May so his top is long-sleeved, but Patrick still has the lovely sight of his knees to enjoy. Which he actually does - he’s a little confused by that. 

Patrick leans in, gives David a half hug, aware he’s a bit sweaty after his earlier jog to the course. David awkwardly pats him on the back, _not usually a hugger then_ , and it’s awkward but David’s smiling anyway.

“Hi.” Patrick says softly.

“Hi. Happy birthday.”

“Thanks. You’ll be pleased to know Twyla’s got a cake waiting for me back at the cafe.” 

“Ooh, yum. Are you running today?”

“I’m tail walking. So hanging out at the back of the pack. I ran here instead.” Patrick jerks his thumb over his shoulder. 

“Oh, you live close, then?”

“Ish, it was a good 10k here.”

“Wow, on your birthday?” David looks mystified. Patrick nods, bemused. “Just an FYI, I will not be roped into long distance running.” 

“Ok, good to know.”

David purses his lips in another smile, just as Alexis runs over to them.

“Good morning, Patrick!”

“Morning, Alexis.” She’s looking between them like she’s trying to figure something out and also like she knows something they don’t know.

“You look cute in your little vest. Doesn’t he look cute, David?” David shoots an annoyed look at her, but it’s fond too. Their weird play-off makes Patrick a bit sad he’s an only child. He laughs at Alexis’s antics anyway.

“Thanks. It’s not a fashion choice I’d usually make, to be honest. I prefer the Run Director one.”

“Because it’s blue?” David interjects teasingly.

“Yeah, how’d you guess?”

“Literally all the rest of your clothes do seem to be blue.” Patrick looks down at himself - he’s in proper running gear this week under his vest - a t-shirt that’s a little tight, loose knee-length shorts and some trainers even he can acknowledge are hideous gracing his feet. Aside from the vest, it’s all different shades of blue. He shrugs.

“Got me there. You seem to like black a lot.”

“I mean, I also like white. And the occasional shade of grey.” 

It’s not long before they’re all called over to the start line and Patrick shuffles to the very back, away from the Rose siblings. The run starts and he joins the last of the runners: a couple of elderly ladies who are intermittently jogging and walking. 

Ronnie considers tail walking the grunt volunteer role, mostly because she’s not a big fan of small talk with random strangers, but Patrick likes it because of the exact same reason. The women get around half the course before begging off, apologising to Patrick, who waves them away. It happens, and he knows it’s important that parkrun is inclusive to everyone, even those who don’t stick around for the finish line. 

He’s left with the choice to run to catch up with the next runner or wander around the rest of the course on his own. He settles into a slow jog, unbothered by whichever happens. It’s only a couple of minutes before he turns a corner to find David sitting on a bench, who stands up and waves as soon as Patrick jogs into sight,

“Hey.”

“Hey, is everything okay?” Patrick asks, although David doesn’t look injured or even particularly tired.

“Yeah, I just figured I’d wait and walk with you, if that’s alright? Keep you company, on your birthday.” David sounds hesitant, like maybe he’s not wanted, and Patrick wants to lean into him, let him know exactly how wanted he is. With his mouth, in case that wasn’t clear.

“Thanks.” They start off again around the course at a nice brisk walk.

“I saw those two rude old ladies abandoned you.” 

“I mean, I’m not exactly wearing a big “it’s my birthday” badge or anything.” 

“Alexis used to have a very large bejeweled birthday badge. Pretty sure pawning it would have paid off at least a year of back taxes we owed.”

“Wow.” Rich people are truly another world, Patrick thinks.

“To be fair to her, it was really the only way our parents ever remembered her birthday.” 

Patrick’s not sure if David’s joking or not, so he doesn’t say anything. A minute or so goes by in comfortable silence before David nudges his shoulder into Patrick’s,

“So aside from an unholy amount of exercise, what are you doing to celebrate?” 

“I’ll probably call my parents this afternoon. Ray said he’d make me something for dinner if I’d like but I think it’d just be a lot of breakfast food, so I’ll probably just pop in a movie, order some takeout and get a very decent sleep.” 

It’s a weird birthday, Patricks thinks. Last year Rachel had organised a huge party for his 30th, and he’d spent a great deal of it fending off questions from relatives and friends about “popping the question” and remarks about how he wasn’t “getting any younger”. This year feels a little like a breather, a stop gap, on the way to something better, thankfully far away from those weighted expectations, but maybe a little scary and important in its own right. David’s unimpressed,

“That sounds like a very sad state of affairs.” 

“Well, I am turning 31, not 19.” 

“And thank god for that.” David laughs awkwardly, fidgeting, twisting his fingers around each other, habitually searching for the rings he takes off when he runs, 

“We could go for a birthday dinner, if you’d like? On me. Or not, it’s your birthday, I wouldn’t want to intrude.” 

Patrick’s heart stutters in his chest, flooding him with hope, “David, I’d love that.” 

David’s head bobs in a nod, pleased but a little self-conscious, “Okay, great. I’ll pick you up if you let me know your address.”

“Eight o’clock?” Patrick suggests.

“Might eat into your solid 8 hours sleep, but sure.” 

“Great.” Patrick nudges his shoulder back into David’s with a little bump of intention.

They chat breathlessly, hovering a little closer to each other than Patrick knows he would usually do with a friend, picking up the parkrun signage as they amble towards the finish. 

By the time they get there it’s being manned solely by Ronnie, Ted and a - definitely hovering instead of volunteering - Alexis. Patrick catches her giving David a loaded stare and an okay sign behind his back, and the well of hope in his chest fills again.

***

The cafe is a familiar buzz of noise and clashing smells and Ronnie’s reserved a booth for him, which Patrick supposes is as good a birthday present as he’s likely to ever get from her. The four of them crowd in, David pressed up next to him in the small booth, and on cue Twyla hops out from the back room, carrying a fortunately very normal looking cake, with a few candles stuck into it. They all sing him happy birthday - even the people in the cafe who clearly have no idea who he is - although he’s distracted by reading the cake before he can blow out the candles,

“Happy St. Patrick’s Day?”, he laughs.

Twyla just smiles at him, “Yeah the bakery got a little confused. At least it’s not as bad as when my great-uncle got a deathday cake instead of a birthday cake that one year. Which was ironic, actually, because he did die quite soon after that.”

Patrick blinks up at her, “Well thanks Twyla, this is really very nice of you all.” 

His eyes drift over the people in the cafe, his friends he realises, even though he really only sees most of them on Saturday mornings. The sight of them all brings a cosy warmth to him that he’s missed since he’d left his hometown. His eyes flicker to David sitting next to him, to find David staring thoughtfully, knowingly at him. Patrick resists the urge to press even closer, to crawl into David’s lap, map his lips with his skin and stay there forever, in this dreamlike moment, the candles still twinkling on top of the cake.

“Hurry up Brewer, you’ll get wax all over the icing.” Ronnie interrupts. He grins at her, reaches down to find David’s hand under the table, squeezing it as he makes his wish. The candles all flicker out with a single breath.

***

David picks him up at exactly 8pm that evening and thankfully Ray has made himself scarce so they set off pretty soon after that. They don’t say a whole lot on the drive, but David had raked his eyes over Patrick, in a full blue casual suit, when Patrick had opened the door, and kissed him quickly on the cheek, and the air in the car crackles with _something_. 

It’s exciting, Patrick feels like there are literal butterflies in his stomach. _Is this what first dates are supposed to feel like?_ He’s desperate to touch David in some way, place a hand over his on the stick shift, curl his fingers into the short hair at the nape of David’s neck, to smooth a hand over his shoulder and reassure himself David’s here, with him. David’s wearing the softest looking black sweater in the world over a pair of very tight acid-washed monochrome jeans and Patrick frankly has no idea how he’s going to get through the rest of the evening.

They pull into the parking lot of an out of the way, nice looking restaurant. They both get out of the car and David waits for Patrick to walk around to his side - closer to the entrance - so they can walk in step together. David’s body language, so incredibly expressive at all times, is a little flirtatious, a little nervous. Patrick mindlessly reaches a hand out and smoothes it over David’s shoulder, down his bicep, and David smiles softly, gratefully, at him, a little of the nervous energy dissipating.

“I came here a lot when I used to live here. They did the best tiramisu.” David exposits. 

“You haven’t been back since you got here?” 

“Not yet. Waiting for a special occasion, I guess.” Patrick’s heart flutters a little in his chest at the implication.

“Well let’s go. Sooner we get in there, sooner we get dessert.” Patrick waggles his eyebrows and an easy smirk spreads over David’s face. David places a hand casually on Patrick’s back, making Patrick’s breath catch in his throat at the light touch, and leads them inside.

***

The place is a little family run Italian, and David practically squeals at the menu when he sees they still do the tiramisu, wiggling in his seat. David’s driving, so they only get a glass of wine each but it’s enough to loosen them up a little bit more, make Patrick giggle at David’s jokes instead of just laughing. It’s so deliciously easy to be around him, they naturally bounce off each other, trading stories and gently making fun of each other. 

They order some incredible cheesy bread knots to start - the moan David lets out as his bites into one is enough to make Patrick flush and choke on his wine. And when they order their mains they both studiously avoid anything with garlic in it, but don’t talk about it. As the waitperson walks away, David picks up his glass,

“Happy St. Patrick’s Day.” David says, eyes twinkling in amusement. Patrick laughs,

“Cheers.” They tap their glasses together.

“So how’s being 31?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, wouldn’t you know?” Patrick teases. David quirks an eyebrow.

“Well that’s a very rude assumption to make.”

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t usually ask someone’s age on the first date, but you did bring it up.” 

“Well technically you did, by virtue of it being your birthday.”

“I can only apologise. But I’d say 31 is going pretty well so far.” David’s mouth curves up and Patrick knows it’s the right thing to say.

They chat about other places they’ve been to in Toronto, and Alexis going back to finish up high school, and David’s parents latest get-rich-again schemes - Moira starring in a crow-themed apocalypse movie, Johnny helping Stevie out with her motel. Patrick tries, and fails, to explain baseball to David, although he thinks David likes being wilfully obtuse about sports, and David tries to explain the importance of cuticle care to Patrick, though Patrick’s pretty sure it’s just an excuse to hold his hand. 

The linguine he orders is incredible - it makes him feel full and slightly sleepy, not helped by the dimmed lighting in the restaurant. There’s a comfortable lull in conversation and he idly plays with one of David’s hands, running his fingers over the thick silver rings distributed over David’s fingers.

“Have you thought any more about the store?” Patrick asks.

“I have actually, I’m actually planning to visit the available retail space sometime next week.”

“That’s great, David.”

“Yeah, a step in the right direction, I think. You could come with, if you’d like?”

“I’ll check my calendar, but sure. I’d like that.”

“Purely in a professional, business capacity, of course.” But he’s teasing him, again.

“Oh, of course.”

A pause.

“Did you have a nice chat with your parents earlier?” David asks softly.

“Yeah, I did. It’s a bit weird for them I think, to not see me today.” David hums in understanding.

“I don’t think I could have gone back there though, not yet.” David entwines their fingers, running a thumb over Patrick’s hand soothingly. They haven’t talked any more about the events that lead to Patrick’s flee to Toronto, but Patrick assumes David remembers what he’d told him at the bar. It’s not the kind of thing you’d forget.

“I feel like when I next see them, in person, I need to tell them, you know? I don’t know if I’m there yet.”

“That’s understandable. And hey,” David tugs on Patrick’s hand a little, “there’s no timeline here but yours, okay?” It’s comforting, and exactly what Patrick needs to hear.

“Sorry, this is a little heavy.”

“I don’t mind.” And then David tells him the story of how he came out to his parents - as pansexual, which makes Patrick very glad he’s done some reading on sexuality recently so he doesn’t have to ask David to explain the term. It’s a very funny story the way he tells it - doing impressions of his dad’s mildly alarmed face and his mom’s theatrics when he’d brought a couple home to them in college. Patrick laughs so hard he has to wipe a tear away with his napkin. David looks absolutely charmed. They order two bowls of tiramisu for dessert - one thing Patrick’s already learnt is that David doesn’t share food - and David eats both his and the little Patrick has left over, leaning over the table a little to steal it out the bowl,

“Food waste is a terrible scourge I will not let either of us contribute to.”

The check arrives and David very firmly insists on paying. Patrick revels a little in the novelty of someone else paying for a date entirely for once - he and Rachel had usually split but on the times they hadn’t he’d always paid. They leave a more-than-healthy tip and duck out, brushing hands on the way back to the car until Patrick feels brave enough to wrap his fingers around David’s, if only for a few more paces. 

Naturally they spend the drive back raving about the tiramisu,

“It was exactly the same as how I remembered it, I may never brush my teeth again.” 

“You know normally I would say that’s a bit of a stretch, but in this case I’d have to agree.” 

They pull up to Ray’s in what seems like the blink of an eye, and suddenly the butterflies are back and Patrick’s so nervous he’s almost frozen to his seat. What if they kiss and it doesn’t feel right? What does he do then?

“Well that was a fun night.” David starts.

“I’m really glad you decided to take up running, David.” 

David laughs, “Well, I never thought I’d say this, but so am I.”

“Wow, that’s…”

“A bold claim, I know.” Patrick can’t stop himself from looking at David as his face twists into something hesitant and soft, glowing under the faint light of the street-lamps. He can’t stop looking at his lips. 

And then David’s there, moving a little closer, and they both lean in, David’s hand coming to cup Patrick’s head firmly, confidently, as he presses his lips to his. It’s a fairly chaste kiss, an excellent first kiss and even as it’s fairly short and distinctly lacking any tongue, it travels down to Patrick’s very toes. _Oh, oh. This does feel right._ David pulls away, and they both smile giddily, not quite at each other. Patrick wonders if David’s heart is beating as loud as his own.

“Thank you. For the date, and that.” 

David shakes his head, “The pleasure was all mine.” He clears his throat a little. “I’ll talk with you tomorrow about the store and… stuff?”

“Sure.” Patrick climbs out the car and closes the door, ducking to speak through the open window, “Goodnight, David.”

“Goodnight Patrick. Happy birthday.” 

Patrick can feel David’s eyes on him as he walks to the door, waves slightly before disappearing through it. Upstairs, as soon as his bedroom door closes, Patrick brings a hand to his lips and smiles against it. This is _it,_ Patrick thinks, this is what it’s _supposed_ to feel like. What all the songs, all the books, all the poems and the romantic comedies are about. Like his whole world has tilted, just slightly, on its axis, pressing a little closer towards the warmth of the sun. He basks in it.

It’s the best birthday he’s ever had, and he’s even more excited for the days to come. 

***

Rachel  
  
**March 23** 09:23 PM   
Seriously, Patrick?  
  
You’re not going to talk to me about this? At all?  
  
**March 25** 11:10 AM   
Phone your mother. She’s worried about you.  
  
****07:05 PM  
Thanks xx  
  
**April 10** 11:32 PM   
fhgjkrtnkgrt  
Sorry! Sat on my phone x  
How are you? x  
  
**April 30** 02:16 PM   
Could you at least let me know if you’re okay?  
  
**June 3** 11:12 PM   
Happy birthday, Pat xxx  
I hope you had a wonderful day. I miss you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 19 is the legal alcohol purchasing age in Ontario, which sucks because it looks way more confusing out of context than 18/21. 
> 
> This was totally going to be a short fic, then a slow burn, and now it’s just them? Dating? Being soft? I have no control really. Also I was going to have a parkrun birthday this year but then pandemic so this is me vicariously living through Patrick. 
> 
> Next chapter: David and Patrick scope out the retail space - strictly professionally of course - and Patrick makes a new acquaintance, much to David’s horror.


	8. Runnin’ Down a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David and Patrick scope out the retail space - strictly professionally of course - and Patrick makes a new acquaintance, much to David’s horror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've officially finished this fic (minus last minute editing and sorting out iPhone skin formatting) and should be publishing new chapters every other day. Thank the wasp I stood on on Wednesday: writing this fic was the only thing that distracted me from that fun experience.

David feels like he’s on the edge of a fucking terrifying precipice. Two, actually, and he’s not entirely sure how that would work even metaphorically, but it seems apt. Pursuing a business idea with the remnants of money he has left, while also dating his business consultant seems like an absolutely terrible idea on paper, especially considering his history with both romance and business partners. Although it doesn’t feel as scary, or it does but in a different way, when he considers it’s with Patrick. Patrick, who he’s pretty sure he trusts not to hurt him in the same way he’s been burned before. This fear is unfamiliar, one associated with wanting something so much he can barely comprehend it, with not wanting to screw it all up. Which he knows he will, eventually,

He has a lot of precedent.

  
how was your daaaate  
  
did you 😘🍆🍑💥👆🏻👌🏻  
  
please never use that sequence of emojis ever again  
  
and no, I’m pretty sure he’s never kissed a guy before so we will not be doing that quite yet  
  
wow, the kiss was that bad, huh?  
  
no, stevie. he literally told me he’s only just figuring it all out  
  
it was a very good kiss  
  
look at you. mr open and honest communication  
  
he’s not just experimenting though, right?  
  
i’m pretty sure he’s not  
  
oh god what if he is  
  
i’m like 87% sure he’s not  
  
ok  
  
I mean for you that’s a great percentage  
  
so when does he get the privilege and honour of meeting me  
  
literally never  
  
like maybe if I tragically pass away and you both attend the funeral  
  
pretty sure he has to defeat all your evil exes to get to date you  
  
we’d have to meet then  
  
is that a reference? I don’t get it  
  
if he does he’s really got his work cut out for him  
  
if we’re going chronologically I’d think the funeral thing’s more likely  
  
are you around thursday?  
  
no, I’m working as usual  
  
ok, cool  
  
???  
  


  
hey  
  
i’m viewing the retail space on thursday afternoon if you’re around  
  
no worries if not  
  
Wouldn’t miss it x  
  
you are a grown man, please don’t use text kisses like a teen girl  
  
That’s your internalised gender roles and toxic masculinity talking, David x  
  
I should never have told you about my gender studies college course  
  
Masculine and feminine roles are not biologically fixed but socially constructed x  
  
you’re so fucking annoying  
  
keep talking judith butler to me  
  
x  
  


*******

Maybe the person most delighted for him is Alexis, who whacks him on the arm when he tells her his business idea, cries, “David! Why didn’t you tell me earlier, I could have used it for my economics coursework!” and then hugs him, something he doesn’t think they’ve done unless her life was in literal danger for years. When she pulls back she looks a little teary, and he deflects by asking about her high school course, which it turns out she’s graduating from on Friday evening. She waves a lock of hair out of her face dismissively,

“Don’t worry about coming or anything, Ted’s coming and I know you thought you’d already been to mine anyway in Switzerland.” He almost lets it go, but he thinks of how proudly she just looked at him and when he considers the possibility he finds he’d really like the opportunity to reciprocate.

“No, Alexis. I’ll definitely be there.” 

Her answering smile, bright and beaming, lets him know it’s the right decision.

***

Thursday afternoon rolls around quickly enough considering how busy David is with researching potential vendors and drafting an actual business plan - before he knows it he’s back at Rays. And then there’s Patrick, standing on the other side of the doorframe, once again in a blue button up and Levis, and ugh, it’s only been a few days since they saw each other and a couple of weeks since they met, and they text pretty constantly, but he missed him.

“Hi.” Patrick says.

“Hi.” David leans in to kiss Patrick’s cheek, unexpectedly slightly shy. 

“You look nice.” Patrick’s starry-eyed in the face of David’s skirted pants and Givenchy sweater.

“Thanks, I’m aware. So do you, although I can’t attribute that to your outfit, which I assume has at least gone through the wash since the last time I saw you in it.” 

“I can reassure you it has.” Patrick tilts his head up to kiss David, a little longer, a little deeper than their first kiss. When they break apart Patrick’s smiling giddily at him and David’s stomach flutters in want. But they have an appointment to get to. 

David left his binder of store stuff - business plans, label sketches, floor plan diagrams - on the passenger seat of the car, and Patrick picks it up as he climbs in, flicking through it, 

“I see someone’s been busy.”

“Yeah, it’s mostly creative ideas and such, I think I’ll definitely need some help with the numbers side of it, but I’m pretty excited.” And really, really nervous.

Patrick’s silent for a while, reading over the papers, studying them intently - like he’s interested, like he cares what David’s brain blurts out from time to time - a smile on his face. By the time he’s finished they’re nearly there, the only sound David’s favourite car ride playlist (‘Mother-Daughter Car Ride’ on Spotify) playing at a low volume in the background.

“David, this is amazing.” Patrick says sincerely.

David doesn’t answer, just reaches out and gives Patrick’s knee a squeeze, hoping it conveys all he doesn’t yet know how to put into words, how much it means to him. 

***

When they pull up outside the store space, there’s someone standing in front of it, but it’s definitely not who David is expecting,

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Patrick looks slightly startled beside him, assuming he’s talking to the estate agent like that. But it’s not an estate agent, it’s Stevie, because of course it fucking is. 

“You didn’t think texting me specifically asking if I wouldn’t be around was slightly suspicious?” Stevie replies. “Anyway the guy who owns this building helps out with the motel sometimes so I offered to show you around it.”

“How generous of you.” David is sure his face is showing exactly how sarcastic that comment was.

Stevie beams at him regardless, and having settled that matter, turns to face Patrick, her eyes alight.

“And you must be Patrick. I’m Stevie.” 

Patrick’s eyes widen in realisation, and to be honest he looks a little scared. Good, at least he’s suitably prepared.

“Nice to meet you, Stevie. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I’m sure absolutely none of it is true.” 

Patrick laughs. David definitely needs to stop this before it devolves into something that would incite Patrick to run away from him forever. He moves towards the door of the store.

“If you’re both done here.” He gives them both a pointed look that indicates yes, they are done here, ”shall we?”

***

The interior of the space is a bit of a mess, evidently cleared out in a hurry, but David tries his best to keep calm and visualise what it could become, with a little of his artistic vision. 

“Hmm, the bones of the building are good.” Patrick says, hands on his hips.

“God, you’re so country boy sometimes.” 

“I grew up in a small town, David. And no flirting, this is strictly a business meeting, remember?” Patrick winks at him, but he smooths a hand across David’s back soothingly as he moves past him. Great, so Patrick’s teasing him too. Not that he’d expected anything less, but now there’s the distinct possibility of the both of them ganging up on him. Stevie laughs at the look on his face. David huffs,

“Well, as the both of you are busy enjoying yourselves, I’m going to go inspect the back room.” 

He heads off and is pleased to find a nicely sized room that could definitely store a fair amount of stock, and maybe an overpriced coffee machine. He checks the measurements of the room, does a quick search for any loose floorboards or damp - none, thank god - and is heading back when he hears Stevie’s lowered voice,

“- wanted to make sure you’re not fucking around with him. Like you’re not just experimenting for a few months before cutting and running- ”

David backs up hastily. Ugh, he should have foreseen this, of course they were going to talk about him if he left them alone. Stevie’s inevitably going to let slip something terrible about him by accident, she knows all his dirty laundry, and Patrick will run back to his little suburban life, and get married and have lots of stocky little pale children and teach Little League Baseball and never see David ever again. 

Maybe he’s spiralling.

“- please never tell him I said this because I will never live it down but he’s been burnt a lot before and he really likes you-” 

Oh well, at least he’ll still have Stevie. It’s nice that she’s trying to communicate genuine human emotion on his behalf, even if it will almost certainly chase away maybe his only possible chance of rom-com worthy love.

Patrick interrupts her, “Stevie, Stevie, I swear, you have nothing to worry about. I’m in this too. Like, all in.” God, he sounds so earnest. They’ve only been on one date. David doesn’t think he should be hearing this. He’s not sure if it’s the most incredible thing he’s ever heard or the most terrifying. Probably both. 

There’s a pause where David can imagine Stevie sizing Patrick up,

“Okay, I believe you. Sorry for the shovel talk.”

“Don’t be, glad he has someone else in his corner.” 

_Fuck_ . David’s heart clenches. Six months ago he had nothing but empty promises and a fuckton of money, and now he has two people, and probably Alexis, and maybe even Ted, in his _corner_. He has a _corner_ for people to be in. He presses his palms to his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, giving himself a few seconds before he emerges from the back.

“Everything okay back there?” Patrick asks when he does rejoin them. David smiles,

“Perfect.” He wonders how much it’s written all over his face that he’s not just talking about the store.

“Great.”

“Although I may need one of you to help me check the boiler? Mostly because I’m not actually sure what one looks like.” Stevie and Patrick look at each other in a way he knows means _wow, look at this hopeless, formerly blindingly rich, ridiculous man we’ve chosen to be stuck with_ but he doesn’t feel ganged up on. Instead he feels understood and accepted. He loves them both, he realises. It’s not as foreign a concept as he’d expected it to be.

Later, when they’ve checked all the necessary, boring things that have nothing to do with _visualising the space_ and more to do with _making sure we can get good insurance cover_ , the three of them stand in front of the locked store, looking up at the storefront. 

“So, are you going to take it?” Stevie asks. Patrick looks at him imploringly, waiting for an answer. 

David takes a deep breath and jumps off the cliff, “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” 

Stevie yelps a little bit and hugs him enthusiastically around the waist. He wraps an arm around her and tugs Patrick into his other side, under his other arm. Patrick looks at him - proud and happy, like he believes in him instinctively and completely. They make David think that maybe he can do this, for once in his life. Maybe he can actually pull this off. 

***

The three of them end up having dinner together at a cafe near the store, which looks pretty identical to the one David knows is in a park in Toronto, not here. It’s frankly uncanny. Made even more strange by the revelation of the person serving them.

“Twyla?”

“Oh, hi David! Hi Patrick!”

“What are you doing here? You work here?”

“Yep, of course I work here! This is my cafe!”

“But, the other cafe?”

“Is also my cafe, where I also work. Pretty sure it’s a weird temporal outside of time and space thing, I’ve never really figured it out.” She sounds nonplussed. “What would you like to eat?”

They order, still slightly mystified, but Twyla’s like that. Stevie looks at them questioningly when she walks away and Patrick explains - about the cafe, about parkrun, about Twyla’s odd anecdotes.

“I don’t think that’s any weirder than David actually taking up running.” Stevie smirks. David rolls his eyes at her.

“I’m going to try to get him to join my baseball team next, what do you think?” Patrick interjects.

“Oh, I’d definitely watch that.”

David decides to fend this off before it goes any further, “Absolutely not. Been there, done that, got the new nose.”

Patrick winks at Stevie across the booth and Stevie muffles a laugh into her shirtsleeve.

When Patrick excuses himself go to the bathroom, Stevie leans over the booth towards him and whispers conspiratorially,

“I like this for you.” She waggles her eyebrows knowingly, and his entire body hums at her approval.

***

They finally shake Stevie off after dinner, and David drives back to Toronto with Patrick’s hand resting over his on the stick shift. Or at least until Patrick leans further over and rests his hand very intentionally a little too high on David’s thigh to be anything but suggestive. David squeaks and it’s only 25 years of driving experience (he learned very young, on one of Lindsey Lohan’s quad bikes) that keeps them on the road.

“Um, what happened to going slow?”

Patrick blinks innocently across at him, “Oh, were we doing that?”

“I mean, I assumed, you’re new to this?” It’s supposed to be a statement, but definitely comes out a question.

“Mmm, sure. But also, counterpoint, you look very, very hot in that outfit and I’ve been trying all day to maintain professionalism and not grope you in front of your best friend.” David glances flirtatiously over at him, his mouth curling into a barely suppressed smile,

“That’s a very loose definition of professionalism.” 

But David doesn’t take the turning to go back to Ray’s and instead keeps going in the direction of the Rose family lake house. He prays to every god and female pop icon he can recall that none of his family intercept them on the way in. 

***

The gods come through - maybe there are perks to being half-Catholic half-Jewish - and thankfully the house is large enough that David’s not too worried about keeping quiet once they get to his bedroom. As soon as he’s closed the door, he finds himself pressed against it by a very enthusiastic Patrick, who tugs David’s head down to lick into his mouth, groaning against his lips. David presses back, his arms wrapping around Patrick’s firm back, wonderfully defined even through his button-up. Patrick smells like sandalwood and cut grass and mint. He feels warm and solid and real. They make out heatedly for a while, just breathing each other in, familiarising themselves with each other’s mouths and bodies until Patrick slots a leg between David’s and presses them together. David’s eyes almost roll into the back of his head. It’s literal heaven. And it’s going to be over very quickly if they don’t back off.

David groans into Patrick’s mouth, but forces himself to pull away, Patrick whining at the loss of contact. He makes little grabby hands towards David’s waist, which, _cute_ , but David shakes his head and pulls Patrick over to the bed, sitting them both down on the edge of it. Patrick looks at him with just as much sweet fondness as he does naked want. David’s never wanted to do right by someone so much before.

“Ok, because this is your first time with a guy, I need to make it very clear that if you need or want to stop or slow down, you say so. And maybe it’s better if we discuss what we’re each comfortable doing before getting carried away.” Consent is David’s bedrock, he’d been in one too many dubious situations himself in New York for it to not be. He wants Patrick to feel as safe with him as he does with Patrick. 

“Ok, David.” Patrick dips towards David to nuzzle against his neck. He groans at the feel of David’s evening stubble against his face.

“Did you even hear any of that?” David asks.

“Mmmhmm. Communication is sexy, consent is mandatory.” Patrick murmurs against David’s throat, the vibrations rolling against the sensitive skin on David’s neck. David’s eyes flutter closed at the sensation.

“Wow, you are really enjoying those sociology lectures.” David’s hands move to Patrick’s waist, pulling him further into him.

Patrick kisses across David’s neck up to his mouth and murmurs against it, “We should all be feminists.”

David grins against Patrick’s mouth, can feel Patrick smile in return, “Patrick Brewer, are you trying to seduce me?”

“Is it working?” Patrick pulls back and looks at him self-assuredly, like he knows it’s working. It’s hot.

“Maybe.” David pulls Patrick back in, hand cupping the back of his neck. They kiss lazily for a few minutes, but this time Patrick’s the one to pull away, sitting back on his thighs as he kneels on the bed. He wipes his hands across his thighs slightly nervously, and David catches them in his own, squeezing them reassuringly.

“Um, explicitly, I’d like us to take our clothes off, and I’d like to touch you- your dick. And for you to touch mine, and maybe, like together? I don’t know what that’s called. Definitely, other stuff, later. But I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to last beyond that anyway tonight, so that’s kind of a moot point.”

David grins slowly, bites his lip. Patrick looks bashful, and shy, but _fuck_ , he looks like he wants it, wants David, so much.

“Is that okay?” Patrick asks. 

“That’s hot. And definitely, yes.” David grabs Patrick’s head and kisses him deeply, hands running over his chest, his arms, dipping below the neck of his button up. Patrick seems to be trying to literally crawl into David’s lap so David pulls his own sweater off, then his t-shirt and folds them - obviously, he’s not a heathen. He slaps his own thighs in invitation - it’s kind of a joke, but also kind of not at all - and Patrick swears, just once, under his breath, throwing his legs over David’s, straddling David’s thighs. 

David slides his hands back under Patrick’s shirt as Patrick unsuccessfully attempts to unbutton it while also doing a delightful thing with his tongue in David’s mouth. Eventually they both manage to get him out of it and then they’re bare chest to bare chest, making out like two teenagers in the back of a pick-up truck, or a Lamborghini, depending on their respective backgrounds. Patrick’s arms wrap around David’s neck, one hand coming to thread through his hair, and Davids flatten over Patrick’s waist, holding him in place, caressing his sides, his chest, his stomach with large, warm hands.

Patrick gasps as David scratches the nails of one hand across the soft skin of Patrick’s lower back, the other pinching a nipple playfully, and he grinds down, fingers pulling through David’s chest hair. David nudges him away, points at Patrick’s Levis,

“Off.” 

Patrick scrambles up immediately, quickly shucking off his jeans, while David curses the man he was this morning, putting on a pair of skirted pants that are impossible to take off gracefully in the heat of the moment. After ten or so seconds Patrick tries to help, David batting his hands away, and at David’s look of indignation - directed at his pants - starts to giggle. 

“Oh my god, stop laughing at me!” But David’s laughing too, these are literally his most complicated pair of pants, why the fuck did he wear them? Eventually he gets them down and off - they are definitely not getting folded, they are being relegated to the back of his closet - and Patrick pulls David against him by the waistband of his underwear, still laughing slightly into his mouth. 

“Seriously, stop laughing.” Patrick pulls back and presses his lips together, eyes shining. David kisses the pretty, pretty smirk off his silly, beautiful face, and then, just to make sure, grabs Patrick’s ass and presses them together fully. Patrick _whines_ , a loud and needy sound, and scrabbles at David’s boxer briefs, urging them off.

Turns out it’s a very, very good thing they don’t need to worry about being quiet. 

***

David wakes up early to an arm slung over his hip, Patrick’s face buried in his chest. It’s a little warm, and he has no idea how he’s awake before Patrick, who by all accounts seems to be a horrendous morning person, but it’s nice. Maybe the nicest thing that’s ever happened to him. 

He runs a hand across Patrick’s back and shuffles down in the bed so Patrick’s head is buried against David’s neck, pulling him in even closer. He can feel Patrick’s chest moving against his with each deep, restful breath he takes. He looks so peaceful, so beautiful, in the early morning light. David sighs contentedly, really only half-awake, as their breaths sync up and he sinks back into sleep. 

He wants to hold this close for as long as he’s got it.

***

He wakes up again to Patrick sitting next to him in bed, fully dressed with a cup of tea and somehow, a newspaper, filling in the crossword. David has no idea where on earth he found a newspaper in this house.

“Hey.” He says blearily.

“Good morning, sunshine.” It’s only slightly teasing. “I made you some coffee.” Patrick points to the thermos on his bedside table.

“Ugh, yes please, thank you.” He takes a sip and evidently Patrick’s got hold of David’s coffee order somehow because it’s heaven. “You didn’t bump into either of my parents, did you?”

“No, just your sister.”

“Oh thank god, it’s way too early in this relationship for you to encounter the horror show that is either of my progenitors.” David elongates the last word in a pitch-perfect impression of Moira. Patrick, having never met her, looks bemused, in a dopey, very fond kind of way. He bends down to kiss David, even though David hasn’t brushed his teeth, or done his hair, or cleansed his face and certainly looks well below his usual standards. He finds he doesn’t much care. David threads his hand around the back of Patrick’s neck and deepens the kiss with a happy sigh. Patrick pulls back reluctantly, hand stroking along David’s bare shoulder, and David pouts up at him.

“As much as I would love to spend all day here with you, I do need to get to work sometime in the next hour.” David tips his head towards the ceiling and resists the urge to stomp his foot.

“Ughhhh, sure, okay. Do you need me to drive you over?”

“No, don’t worry, I can call an Uber. You might need to escort me out though, protect me from any straggling family members.” Patrick leans down, kisses him again, deep and slow.

“Mmm, that sounds like something I can do.” David murmurs against his lips.

***

David showers quickly, does an abbreviated version of his skincare routine and changes quickly, ready in record time literally just to escort Patrick to his front door. But this is the last impression Patrick will have of him for at least 24 hours, they just about have the time and he likes having someone to chat to as he does his morning routines. 

Fortunately, they encounter neither of his parents, nor Alexis on the way out of the house. 

David murmurs a promise to go to parkrun - again, dear lord - the following day, and then Patrick and his cute butt are off, distinctly out of David’s direct reach. David groans longingly against the doorframe as Patrick’s Uber pulls away. His phone chimes before he even closes the front door and he knows it’s going to be Patrick with some kind of adorable, emoji-ridden message. His heart grows a couple of sizes at the thought. 

Ugh, wow. He’s kind of fucked.

***

That evening finds David sat next to Ted in the audience of Alexis’s high school graduation. 

It’s frankly a little bit frightening to think there are people sitting around him who are his age watching their kids graduate, instead of their skiving younger sisters, but he’s willing to deal with the existential crisis for Alexis’s sake. He hopes that makes him a good brother. 

When they call her name he and Ted clap enthusiastically, David waving from the seat so she can see them. Ted actually whoops a little, and Alexis does her big, most genuine smile in their direction - both her eyes and nose scrunching up. She waves, a little flap of the hand, as she strides across the stage in her 6-inch heels. Ted’s taking a million photos next to him, beaming at her with pride, and he asks Ted to message them to him when he’s done. He kind of wants to frame one and hang it where their repossessed Mondrian used to sit in the sitting room. 

After the ceremony is over, he hugs her again, and he can feel the pride he has for her rolling over him in waves. Ted envelopes them both, with a shouted “Con-grad-ulations!”, because Ted’s a big hugger, it turns out, and it’s nice, if a little weird. He leans into it. He’s trying to do that more nowadays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my faves!!! I’d love to include Johnny and Moira in this fic but it was supposed to be short and Moira is such a horrendously intimidating character to write, though I love her very much.
> 
> Also, listen, I know David and Patrick have only known each other for like two whole weeks at this point but I’m a U-Haul bisexual at heart and can’t write slow burn for shit. I tried. 
> 
> Next chapter: Patrick, king of confrontation avoidance, has to very comprehensively get the fuck over it.


	9. Running Up That Hill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick scores a hat-trick of hard conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, at the beginning of this fic: Patrick’s going to tell David about Rachel early on so we don’t get the big awkward barbeque blow up.  
> Me, last week, plotting this chapter: *kombucha girl tiktok meme*

David and Patrick have been dating for a few weeks when Rachel shows up out of the blue, at parkrun of all places, explaining she’d seen his name on the website. 

Patrick’s not mad she found him. It was inevitable, really. She’s resourceful, and as stubborn as he is, and she loved him a lot. So when he sees her, in an old university t-shirt and a pair of running leggings that are still stained with green paint from when they redecorated his parents living room, and hears Alexis yell, “Wait, _Patrick_ is your fiancé?!” it’s not that much of a surprise.

It’s also painfully bad timing, because the only person who knows about her is David, and the rest of them are staring at him in varying states of confusion, horror, betrayal and bemusement (Ronnie frankly looks like she’s having the time of her life). 

David just looks surprised at her sudden presence, almost a little resigned. Patrick thanks past-Patrick for getting very drunk and telling David about her before they’d started dating - he doesn’t think he could have plucked up the courage to do so otherwise. And boy, that would not have been fun.

See, fundamentally he’s very confrontation-avoidant. He’s also overly competitive, and stubborn, and a bit too much of a people pleaser. At least he’s self aware. Enough to know he’s been an absolute asshole to the woman he basically spent half his life with, and she deserves better than every text she sent he didn’t reply to, the vague note he left, him ducking out without any meaningful explanation. 

It’s hard to know that, and also face the fact that telling her, one of the most important people of his life, exactly why he left involves coming out to her and ultimately changing her entire outlook of their decade-long relationship. It’s safe to say the concept means he’s been putting it off for a horribly long time. 

So when he sees her it’s also kind of a relief. For once he’s glad she’s pursuing him, that he doesn’t have to reach out. Rachel, for her part, looks at the shocked faces around her, at how closely David’s standing to him, and he can see the cogs turning in her brain. Maybe he won’t have to say it out loud after all.

“Pat.” She crosses her arms across her chest, looks him in the eye, and he knows he’s not getting out of this that easy.

“Rach.”

“Are you busy or can we talk?”

Patrick looks at David, who nods at him, but doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Yeah, sure, we’ve got a lot to talk about.” 

At that she raises her eyebrows, as if to say _no shit, you’re the one who’s been ignoring me for months_. He deserves that one. Fortunately - or maybe unfortunately - he’s not volunteering today, so the two of them walk away from the gathered crowd to a bench a fair way away, hidden from view. She sits down beside him and they both stare ahead for a moment at the man-made pond in front of them. They’ve never been to Toronto together, he thinks.

Rachel breaks the silence first, “I think I deserve an apology. And an explanation.”

Patrick nods down at his hands, clasped in his lap, “Yeah. You do.”

“You just fucking ghosted me, Pat. And left a vague-ass note, ‘I can’t do this anymore’ - what the hell? I thought you’d done something stupid. We were all worried sick.” Patrick feels nauseous at the implication, at his thoughtlessness. 

She bends forward to rest her arms on her knees and buries her hands in her hair. He notices she isn’t wearing the ring. 

“I thought the idea of marrying me had finally driven you over the edge.” She laughs, but it’s horrible and brittle, and it breaks his heart a little. It was unfair to put that on her.

“Rach.” He reaches out to touch her back, to comfort her, and it breaks the dam. She turns and buries her head into his neck, breath hitching. He can tell she’s trying not to cry.

Despite their history of terrible mistakes, most of them his, she’d been his person for such a long time. He holds her back and she relaxes for a moment before she pulls away, looking him dead in the eyes.

“So. Explain.”

He does. He apologises every other sentence but he tells her. He explains the path he’d seen laid out for him and never thought to deviate from, every instinct that screamed at him no, how he, and everyone he’d surrounded himself with, had talked him back to her every time. He clenches his fists and brings them to his temple, cradling his head in his hands.

“On paper, you make sense. You always made so much sense to me. But that’s not enough, I know that now.” She looks at him in pained understanding - she’d known it too. He wonders who’d been fooling themselves for longer. “It’s not an excuse, I wish more than anything I’d walked away from you sooner, for both of us.” 

“You did, Pat. We both did. I think we’ve both made our own mistakes.” She takes a deep breath. “You were always just there.”

“Yeah.” That sums it up. They sit in silence for a few more minutes. He feels better for having seen her, though he knows the ‘what if’s of their relationship will always be an itch to scratch when he’s having a bad day.

“So did you find what you were looking for here?” She raises an eyebrow at him like she suspects he has. He ducks his head, twists his fingers together. His stomach churns in fearful anticipation - he has to tell her somehow, and today.

“Yeah. Yeah, I have.”

She rests a kind hand on his knee, and it’s a comfort, but it mostly reminds him of the way David’s touch lights up his entire body. 

“You should tell me.” Rachel says, softly. He stares at his feet.

“You already know.”

“All the more reason.” She looks at him, open and kind. She knows, and he knows she knows, but it’s still so hard to say.

“I’m- I’m gay. I met someone here- at parkrun actually. His name is David.”  
“The guy in the all-black running ensemble in this heat?”

Patrick chuckles fondly, “Yeah, that’s him. We’ve been dating for a few weeks.” 

At that she whistles.

“What?” He asks.

“A few weeks? Patrick, I thought you’d been dating for months. You look at him.. Well, you never looked at me like that.” She looks a little sad. He grabs one of her hands in earnest,

“Rach, I want you to know, I did love you, I do love you. Not very well, but still. That wasn’t a lie. And I didn’t know, before. I didn’t keep it from you knowingly.”

“I know.” 

She grins, suddenly. “You know, I’m kind of glad it wasn’t just me.” 

He laughs, “Believe me, Rach, if I’d been attracted to women, you would have definitely been in the running.”

She smiles nostalgically, and then she cackles, throwing her head back. There’s a lightness to their relationship that hasn’t been there for a long, long time. She turns to him, serious again.

“I need some time, I think. But I’d like to be your friend. We had something there, I don’t want to throw it away.”

He nods. Imagines having it all. “That sounds really nice. Text me when you’re ready. And I swear I’ll text back, or you can have my signed Blue Jays cap.”

She raises her eyebrows in surprise, “I’ll hold you to that, Brewer.” 

“And, um, could you not tell my parents for now? I’m not quite there yet.” 

She nods in sympathetic understanding, “Of course. You will do it though, Pat? I know you.” 

Patrick squirms a little under her assessing gaze. "I will, I promise. I’d just like to do it in person.”

She reaches out to fold a hand over his. “I know your parents too. They’ll be okay with it. I swear.”

The reassurance is such a kind gesture it makes tears prick behind his eyelashes. He nods, looking down at their hands. His look so different next to hers compared to David’s. 

She squeezes his hand one last time and gets up. He stands too, and then they’re hugging. He hopes it conveys all his apologies, all his love, all his forgiveness for her own mistakes. It feels like closure. Huh, maybe this confrontation thing isn’t so bad after all.

“Will you be okay getting back?”

She looks at him in amusement, “Oh, Pat. I’m not just here for you. I’m having a nice, solo city break. Figured it was about time I took some time for myself.” 

“Well, have a lovely time. There’s a great Hockney exhibit at the AGO.” She looks at him in confusion, “David’s into art.”

“I will have a lovely time. You go get him, Pat” She winks, and walks away. She doesn’t look back. He stares after her for a moment, and then he turns to make his way over to the finish funnel. Maybe he can get some volunteering in today after all.

***

Turns out resolving things with his ex doesn’t cancel out all the residual awkwardness from everyone finding out about her. Everyone’s sneaking looks at him, presumably to assess whether he’s about to cut and run back to wherever he came from, if they need to beat him up on David’s behalf. He’s not sure how to communicate the message that all is well - an announcement in the cafe, an email? He’s not about to discuss his slightly late in life sexuality revelations with each and every member of the Toronto parkrun community in turn. 

He helps Roland out with, well everything Roland needs help with, which is rather a lot. By the time he makes it back to the cafe half the runners have already cleared out. Including, it seems, the Roses. Twyla looks at him sympathetically from over the counter,

“David said he was feeling a little nauseous so he and Alexis went home.”

“Oh.”

“I swear it wasn’t any of the food.” 

“That’s okay, Twyla. Thanks.” Patrick checks his phone. No messages.

  
Hey, are you okay? Twyla mentioned you were feeling sick.  
  
Let me know if we’re still on for tonight.  
  
I can pick up as many over the counter medications you desire, soup and any Sandra Bullock vehicle. Just text me xx  
  


Patrick’s starting to have a sinking feeling he’s done something wrong.

***

David doesn’t text him for the rest of the day so Patrick still turns up at 5pm, with a small selection of medicines, DVDs and a Tupperware of homemade soup. When David opens the door, it’s like he’s surprised to see Patrick on his doorstep.

“Hey, is everything okay? Twyla said you went home sick earlier.” David crosses his arms defensively over his chest, walks Patrick into the sitting room.

“Yeah, sorry, I wasn’t feeling well, got a bad stitch running.” Even if it’s not a lie, it’s definitely not the whole truth. David’s still avoiding his gaze and he looks upset. Patrick’s confused. Did David not remember Patrick mentioning Rachel?

“Okay. Listen, I’m really sorry Rachel just showed up. I should have known she’d track me down for some answers sometime, I just didn’t think it would be in such a public setting.”

David shakes his head. “Right. No, that’s fine. It wasn’t your fault. She didn’t warn you or anything.” 

Patrick winces, “Well, not exactly, she had been reaching out.” 

It’s like David’s searching for something to grab on, he’s wound so tight, “She was texting you? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to talk about her. And we weren’t exactly chatting. I told you about her, I figured that was enough?” He starts to catch on - something is definitely wrong.

“You mentioned her, once! I assumed there was some closure there, that she wasn’t going to pop up in an attempt to win you back!”

“She’s not going to win me back! Trust me when I say you have absolutely nothing to worry about, David.” As he says it he realises just how true it is - David has nothing to worry about from anyone, maybe ever again. God, he _loves_ him. In a forever kind of way.

David nods, frowns, diverts down a different path, “Did you not text her? When she texted you?”

“No, of course I didn’t.” 

From the way David’s face furrows it’s the wrong answer. Patrick’s heart plummets into his stomach.

“So when you say you proposed and ran away, you like, literally ghosted her?”

A wave of shame roils over Patrick. This isn’t a misunderstanding. It’s exactly what he did. David looks at him, Patrick’s guilty expression speaking for itself.

“Alexis said Rachel said you’d been together since high school. That’s like, multitudes of hundreds longer than my longest relationship, which was such a disaster it ended with a literal lawsuit. And then you just up and left her one day?”

“I know, I know. It was a horrible thing to do. The worst thing I’ve ever done.” God, he hates how David’s looking at him. “Would it have been worse than staying? Marrying her? Not giving her, or me, the chance for something better all our lives?”

David’s hands have a mind of their own, clenching and flinging themselves in the air, “Why couldn’t you just stay and talk to her? Or leave and talk to her? I don’t get it, Patrick!” 

“I tried! We always got back together. I tried everything, David. This is the only time it’s ever stuck.” 

David clenches his eyes shut, “So if you and I were to break up, you’d go back to her?”

The mere idea threatens to break Patrick’s heart. “No, David, I wouldn’t. I figured it out, remember?”

“Yeah, I get it, I’m hot, I’m great in bed, I can turn any straight guy. Then once they realise I’m a fucking train wreck they find someone nice and polite and not too much who they can take to meet the parents and -” 

Patrick interrupts him, “David! I swear, I’m not going to pack up and leave when the shine wears off!”

David stops, stills, sits down hard on the nearest couch. “I’ve had a lot of utterly shit relationships. I had a guy paint my face while I was sleeping and then leave never to be seen from ever again! Can you not see how your history of fucking off and ghosting your significant others doesn’t fill me with confidence?” 

“I don’t think that’s fair! David, no matter what I did with Rachel, it never felt right, and I didn’t know why. I didn’t know what right was supposed to feel like, until I met you. And I knew, immediately. I went on a gay panic hike the next morning to sort out all the feelings I had for you after we’d talked for half an hour. And as I’ve got to know you, I’ve only got more confident that this is what I want.” Patrick kneels down in front of him, takes David’s head in his hands. “You’re what I want. Please, please trust me.” David shuts his eyes, curls his arms into himself. He doesn’t reply, but his body language says it all. Patrick sighs, drops his hands to David’s knees. His heart feels like it’s crunching in his chest. He’s fucked it up. The best thing he’s ever had. He tries again, knows he’ll keep trying until David outright tells him to stop.

“David, I don’t know how to tell you how I feel without scaring you off. So I’m going to give you some time. And if you want this, if you want me, I will be here. However long you need. Just. Let me know.” David doesn’t move. Patrick gets up, knees creaking slightly, presses a kiss to the top of David’s head and makes himself scarce. He just about gets to his car before he starts to cry.

***

He’s exhausted when he gets home even though it’s only just past 6pm, entirely emotionally wrung out. But he’s got one thing left to do. Patrick likes baseball. A lot. He wants the hat-trick. He reaches for his phone and Marcy Brewer picks up on the second ring. 

“Hey, mom.” 

“Hi, sweetheart. How’s your weekend going?”

Patrick huffs out a deep breath, chuckles a bit wetly, doesn’t answer that question. “Actually, I was wondering if you’re doing anything tomorrow? I was thinking I’d come visit.”

His mom’s delighted, and his sense of guilt only increases at the knowledge he hasn’t seen and has barely talked to his parents for months. “Of course. You’re always welcome, you know that. Your dad and I don’t have any plans.”

“Great. Okay. I’ll see you around lunchtime then?”

“Sounds lovely. Sleep well and drive safe.”

“Goodnight, Mom. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He hangs up and gets a very, very early night.

***

He ends up arriving at his parents at just past 11am, and the look of happy surprise on his mom’s face threatens to derail every plan he’s plotted on the way over. He hugs her, and then his dad, and then, what, does he just blurt it out? So he doesn’t. He chats about their new borders in the garden, and what Terry from across the road has done with his bathroom, and how another of his cousins just had a baby. He can feel his mom’s eyes on him, assessing him gently, checking he’s in one piece, that he’s okay. Scanning for any changes that have happened in the past months since he last saw her.

It turns out Rachel dropped some of the stuff he didn’t pack up back here, so he goes and figures out what will fit in his car, in Ray’s spare room. He notices she’d given the ring back too, the box stuffed into a pair of his old gym trainers. Once they’ve piled some of it into Patrick’s Kia he and his dad head back to the kitchen where his mom’s plating up lunch.

“So you’re still living in your boss’s spare room?” Clint sounds skeptical, but to be fair it is a slightly ridiculous situation.

“Yep. But considering he’s technically my boss and my landlord, he’s very nice. He volunteers at parkrun sometimes too.”

“Oh, you know they just set one of those up around here! We were considering going, seeing what all the fuss is about.” Patrick smiles, imagines his parents ambling around a park on a Saturday morning. They’d love it, he thinks.

“It’s great, I’ve made a lot of friends there.” His breath almost catches at the end, thinking of David coming back again and again even though he swears up and down he still hates running. 

“That’s lovely, sweetheart.” His mom covers his hand with his own as she gets up to put the dishes in the dishwasher.

“So you think you’ll stay in Toronto then?” His dad ventures.

“Yeah, I can’t imagine living anywhere else right now.” Toronto feels almost as right for him as David does.

“Maybe it’s a good idea to think about renting a flat then? Enough room for all your stuff.” His dad’s idea of support is overwhelmingly admin-based, it’s an _if this is what you want I’m fully behind it_ kind of suggestion. 

“That’s not a bad idea.”

His mom sits back down, looks at him hesitantly, “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see Rachel, and it’s none of our business, but she’s not in town this weekend, if you were thinking of it.”

He smiles a little dryly, “Yeah, I already saw her. She came to Toronto yesterday, we had a chat.”

“Oh?” His parents are definitely curious, if a little apprehensive. He wonders whether they’re more apprehensive of a reunion or a permanent break-up.

“It was good. A lot of talking, apologising. Stuff like that. We’re not together, or ever getting back together again. That door is closed. For good.” His mom grabs his hand again, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Whatever you think is best, Patrick.”

“This is, I know that now.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “I’m really sorry for worrying you when I took off, but I needed to. I proposed to Rachel on Valentine’s Day, and as soon as I did it I knew it wasn’t right.” 

His dad clears his throat, “You know, asking your mother to marry me was the easiest thing I ever did. If it felt like that with Rachel, leaving was probably for the best.” 

“I’m so proud of you for realising that, Patrick.” His mom says, “I know it must have been hard.”

He almost lets the rest of it go, bottles it back up for another time. But he thinks of David saying he’s too much, not nice or polite enough to introduce to parents, thinks about how right he feels around him, the deep-seated knowledge that he’ll never bring a nice girl home ever again, thinks about Rachel’s reassurance and it makes him brave.

“Yeah, she wasn’t the right person for me. I know that now.” He takes a deep breath, steels himself. “I, uh, I actually met someone. In Toronto. We’ve only been dating for a few weeks, but I really, really like- him. I really like him.” He exhales shakily, wills himself not to cry.

“Oh, Patrick.” his mom whispers.  
“His name is David, and he’s good and funny and he makes me happy, so happy.” 

“Well, that’s all that matters.” His dad intones wisely, like he’s a fucking It Gets Better ad. His mom nods sagely.

“We’d love to meet him sometime.” Patrick grins slightly, but it ends up in a shaky gasp. His hands are shaking slightly on the tabletop.

“I’d love that, but, I don’t know. I think I messed it up.” He bites his lip, breath hitching. He tells them: about Rachel, about their fight. And then he works his way back, through David’s store plans and Patrick’s birthday date and their big Toronto day out. About seeing him at parkrun and everything suddenly falling into place for the first time in his life. His mom holds him as he confesses it all, his dad keeping a steady hand on his arm. 

“He sounds very special, sweetheart.” 

“Yeah.” Marcy wipes away the tears from his face like she did when he was five and got hit by a baseball, when he was fifteen and had failed an algebra test in high school, when he was eighteen and he’d broken up with Rachel for the first time.

“I’m sure it will all work out.” He lets her tug him into a hug and believes her. Just a little patience.

***

  
David  
  
I know we’re doing time and space but I wanted you to know  
  
I saw my parents  
  
I told them  
  
About me but also about you  
  
They want to meet you sometime, if you’d like  
  
But no pressure, obviously  
  
Like none at all, I swear  
  
Sorry, this is way too many messages.  
  
proud of you ❤️  
  


  
Rachel  
  
Told my folks - they’re just as cool with it as you said they’d be  
  
Thank you  
  
🌈💖  
  
As a gesture of thanks you can take me out to dinner with ur bf once you pawn the ring  
  
Letting me show him embarrassing teenage photos is really the least u can do x  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t intending to have any real conflict in this fic, but this chapter really wanted to be written - a combo of my need to do right by Rachel, have David face his fears and all my still-squishy feelings about Meet the Parents. Poor Patrick just got a little caught in the cross-hairs. 
> 
> Important to note that David’s closer to NY!David than he is at this point in the show (at least theoretically- who the fuck knows what Dan’s timeline is), and his and Patrick’s relationship is newer, so those insecurities are more present.
> 
> Next up: everyone’s true otp, David Rose and character development.


	10. Run Away With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David thinks about some things.

David sits with his head in his hands on the sofa for a long time after Patrick leaves. When he finally gets back up he finds the tote bag, and the sweet gesture makes his chest hurt. He eats the soup - which is delicious - and falls asleep watching back-to-back Bridget Jones movies. Colin Firth’s loud face reminds him of Patrick, in a good way, in a TV-screen-only way he can cope with.

Alexis is the one to find him the following morning. He’d had to explain he’d known about Rachel to her yesterday, and then she’d told him what Rachel had told her: that she was looking for answers, that Patrick hadn’t talked to her at all since March, that they’d been together since high school. He hadn’t expected her presence and David does not do well with surprises, let alone smart, beautiful, red-headed ex-fiance flavoured ones. He hadn’t meant to spiral but he had. If Patrick had left her, well, it was only a matter of time before he did the same to David.

So, that had blown up in his face. Well done David. Another body for the pile.

Alexis finds him in a much sorrier state than she left him in but he doesn’t want to chat about it, so he drags himself to his room and puts on his comfiest all-black outfit, ignores everyone’s texts and goes back to sleep. He’s very rudely interrupted by loud knocking on his bedroom door. 

“I’m coming in, I don’t care what you’re doing. I’ve seen it all before.” is the only warning Stevie gives before she barges in.

“Ugh what are you doing here?”

“We’re sorting out the store today, remember? And your sister messaged me to let me know you were, and I quote ‘back in your pit of existential doom and despair.’”

He shrugs, a twitch of the shoulders. It’s an accurate enough descriptor and he doesn’t have the energy to care right now.

“So get up.” 

“No. Leave me in my pit.”

“The store needs you David.”

“I don’t care. It’ll just go under anyway. Fail like everything I’ve ever done in my entire fucking life.”

“My god.” She stops trying to talk him out of bed and decides to physically pull him out of it instead. He pulls the hoodie over his head, 

“Noooo, Stevie.”

She holds a hand out to him so he can grab in from his position on the floor. 

“It’s past 11. We’ll get there by midday and it’ll be a socially acceptable weekend time to drown all your sorrows in a nice bottle of red.”

David hums, the alcohol sounds tempting.

“I have my car so I can designated drive you or you can stay at my place tonight.”

“Ugh, fine.” He uses her hand to pull himself up and packs a small overnight bag. “I don’t want to be here anyway.”

***

He gets a text from Alexis on the way to the store.

  
Ted says Patrick’s not at baseball practice??  
  
Did you guys fight?  
  


David resists the urge to chuck his phone out the window- it’s not as if he has much spare cash for a new one. Patrick didn’t wait for him at all. He’d just run away. He’d never see him again. Fuck.

***

In the weeks since he’d officially applied to lease the store, he and Patrick, with a little help from Stevie, and no help at all from Alexis, had cleaned the space, installed some beautiful oak furniture, and started sorting out the logistics - lists of vendors, cost spreadsheets, interior and exterior decor. 

Last time he’d been here he and Patrick had mostly just made out a lot in the back room after Patrick had teased him mercilessly about his inability to fill in the business incorporation paperwork. The form’s still sitting on the table, Patrick’s handwriting mocking him. It’s actually mostly filled in, just the business title space left blank. David resists the urge to spill red wine on it. 

“So, do you want to talk about what happened?” Stevie asks. She’s varnishing an upcycled wooden ladder, and the fumes are getting to him a bit, alongside the wine. It’s an interesting blend.

“No.” 

“Ok.”

A pause. David tips his head back, closes his eyes.

“Patrick was engaged. Before he came here.”

He can hear Stevie swivel around. “Oh-kay. And he didn’t tell you that?”

“No, he did.” He opens his eyes. Stevie’s frowning, confused.

He elaborates, “He skipped out on her with like zero explanation after a whole decade of a relationship.”

“Well that was a bit shitty of him, but I don’t necessarily see the relevance?”

“How am I supposed to trust someone who can just up and leave like that?” Stevie’s face does an odd little dance, her mouth opening in realisation, and then shutting, something resolute but sympathetic in her eyes. Her voice softens just a little,

“David, Patrick’s gay. I would assume him being gay and engaged to a woman was probably the main motivator for that decision.”

“So? It just means whenever he would have walked out on me it would have been for a different reason than the existential questioning of his entire sexuality.”

Stevie puts down the paintbrush, comes to stand in front of him. He’s fiddling with setting up the till at the front desk.

“Why are you so sure it wouldn’t have worked out?”

David stares at her like she’s grown an extra head, “I’m not an endgame kind of person, Stevie. I’m the fun stepping stone people trample over before they find someone who’s actually nice.”

Stevie frowns, “You know I think that before you came here you were, intentionally or not, surrounding yourself with some pretty fundamentally terrible people.” David nods in resigned acknowledgement, he’s heard it more or less from her before.

“And I don’t think that’s true of Patrick. I’d like to think that’s not true of me, either.” He frowns down at the contraption in front of him. 

“David, I don’t stick around just for your excellent wine expertise. This might sound horribly sincere, but I actually like you.” His face pinches uncomfortably, then smoothes into something a little open, a little vulnerable. He finally looks at her.

“Um, I like you too. I think you’re my best friend.”

“Wow, like, same.” She says, deadpan. 

He twists his face up, “I’m not sure what I did to deserve you.” 

“Well maybe you saved the world in a past life. Or maybe, you’re actually a good person and pretty fun to be around? Please don’t make me give you any more compliments.”

He laughs at that. 

“You’re going to have to talk to Patrick sometime, you still need to file these incorporation papers.”

David shrugs defensively, “Ted said he wasn’t at baseball practice today. Maybe he’s already cut and run.”

Stevie stares at him, “If I owned anything I thought you’d like I’d bet it that he’s definitely not done that. He’s probably just as upset as you are and doesn’t want to cry in front of all of his baseball buddies.” 

David’s heart aches a little at that, at the thought of Patrick’s heart breaking as hard as his own, “That’s not actually that comforting a thought.”

Stevie smirks at the look on his face, “You know, I still really, really like this for you.” 

***

He gets Patrick’s texts while they’re taking a lunch break at Cafe Tropical. He chokes on a bit of his breakfast-food-as-lunch, correct for healing a broken heart thank you very much, when he flips over his buzzing phone and sees them. It takes a glass of water and a very concerned Twyla thumping him on the back to get him to stop coughing. 

Stevie’s looking at him knowingly across the booth. He rolls his eyes and spins the phone around. 

Her eyes widen teasingly, “Wow, David. _Parents_.”

“Don’t.”

She just grins and he smiles back, attempting to tamper the hopeful smile that wants to stretch across his face into something slightly more chill and appropriate for a barely month-old relationship. He taps out a reply and in his slightly giddy, tipsy state accidentally sends an actual emoji.

Whatever. He kind of means it.

***

It turns out spending the day working hard on the store and hanging out with someone who apparently likes him very much, just how he is, is really good for him. He texts Alexis to let her know he’s okay, and he and Stevie collapse into bed after finally having watched The Room. His sides ache from laughing, and Stevie, who turns out to be surprisingly good at acting, keeps getting out of bed to recreate the scenes from the film. [The flower shop scene](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KIkoXhgtI58) reenactment in particular, that he suspects is the only reason she has flowers in his apartment, makes him weep with laughter and he’s barely even drunk anymore.

  
have you ever seen The Room?  
  
Haha yeah, a few times in college  
  
stevie just introduced me to it  
  
she’s also surprisingly good at impressions  
  
Well I very much hope to see that sometime  
  
are you at your parents still?  
  
Yep, currently in my childhood bed  
  
Which is a very strange feeling  
  
stranger than staying in Ray’s spare room?  
  
does it at least have less garish wallpaper?  
  
It’s a lot of baseball players.  
  
I’m not sure how no one figured out I might not be straight for thirty years  
  
well you got there in the end  
  
were your parents ok?  
  
Yeah, they were  
  
um  
  
I didn’t push you into that did I?  
  
if I did, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to  
  
I meant it when I said it was your timeline to set  
  
No, David. I wanted to.  
  
I owed it to myself  
  
and us.  
  
Also, when I talked with Rachel she told me she knew they’d be fine with it  
  
That helped, considering how close she and my parents were  
  
that’s good  
  
are you and she all sorted out then?  
  
Yeah, she’s taking some space and then we’re going to try and be friends again  
  
We always worked much better as friends anyway  
  
Makes sense considering I'm very gay  
  
we’re going to end up with two stevies  
  
🥴  
  
I’ll be back in Toronto tomorrow afternoon  
  
ok  
  
Just in case you wanted to know  
  
ok  
  


He falls asleep with Stevie snoring next to him and his phone clutched to his chest.

***

David wakes up at a reasonable hour, Stevie already having left to man the front desk at the motel. He’s trying to figure out whether to call a cab or stick out Schitt’s Creek for a whole day when a familiar car pulls up outside. He leans out the window and Alexis waggles her fingers out the drivers side at him.

“What are you doing here?”

“Stevie said I should probably come rescue you from small town life. Also it’s my day off college today, so I thought why not spend some QT with my big brother.”

Alexis for once doesn’t prod and pester him on the drive back, which is nice - he’s pretty sure he’s had more honest conversations in the past three days than in the cumulative thirty-[redacted] years before that and it’s exhausting. He’s set his heart on talking to Patrick later, too, mostly because he doesn’t want to go another day without seeing him. 

Instead, he and his sister chat about the things they’ve let slide for the past few weeks - her starting college, how the store’s doing.

“Do you want to go for a run later?” she asks. To his surprise, he does. But then again, maybe it’s not so surprising. They’re pretty good at taking care of each other, it turns out.

“Um, yeah actually, but maybe alone? Not that I don’t want to hang out. I just need to sort through some stuff on my own.”

“Sure, David.” She pats him kindly on the knee. He grabs her hand and squeezes it.

“Thank you, Alexis.” It comes out exactly as sincere as he means it, which is far too sincere for their usual relationship. She looks at him then, knowing and affectionate. He’d go to war for her, he knows, but it’s the first time he’s ever realised the same goes for her. 

He has to remind her to keep her eyes on the road before they both meet an incredibly anti-climactic end next to the Schitt’s Creek town sign.

***

So, that’s how David finds himself at midday on Monday going for a run, of his own volition, with nothing and no one else but himself and his thoughts. 

It’s perfect weather, a little chilly and cloudy for July but very ambient overall. He sets off on the route Alexis took him on when they were doing Couch to 5K, running along the lakefront. There are a few other lunchtime runners, but it’s mostly deserted, and very picturesque. The lake is a steady, still blue.

It turns out it’s very calming to run by himself. He’s not actively thinking, but he can feel his thoughts fall into place around him anyway as he keeps a steady pace. Mostly he thinks about Patrick, about the store, about himself. About how a few months ago he’d have been amazed to find himself here, with a business and a person who wants to be with him for more than just sex and emotional validaton. And a few months before that he would have been even more amazed, when he lived in New York and bought affection as easily and carelessly as class A drugs, with significantly less return on investment. He’s not sure he’d recognise himself, and he knows it’s for the better.

The fact is that he’s changed a lot, and he can only keep moving forward, or risk all the progress he’s made so far. And going back is not an option. There are people there to catch him if and when he trips up. He thinks of the store, carefully assembled by all the people he holds dear - and also Ronnie, who helped install the bathroom. He thinks of the shining hope in Patrick’s eyes as he made a wish on a few lopsided birthday candles. He thinks of Patrick saying he _knew_ , the first time he saw David, of Patrick asking him to trust him. He thinks of the piece of himself that _wants_ to. Wants to offer up his heart for once to someone he doesn’t think would ever abuse it. 

He phones Ray before he gets carried too far down that road.

“Hi, Ray.”

“Oh hello, David. How are you this fine Monday? Patrick’s in the shower I think but I can interrupt him for you, I’m sure.”

David frowns Ray's idea of apparently acceptable behaviour. He does recall there being a lock on the bathroom door, so he’s somewhat reassured by that.

“No, don’t interrupt him. Um, I’d like to book an appointment to file my incorporation papers? The earliest appointment possible. Please.”

“Ok, well, Patrick instructed me to leave his diary clear until 1:30, so would 1:30 do for you?”

“That’s perfect, Ray, thanks.”

“No problem, David. I will just pencil you in now. I’ll let Patrick know once he’s back at his desk. See you soon!”

Ray hangs up, managing a brief conversation for once in his life. 

Exhilarated, excited, with a new burst of energy, David starts to jog back to the house, planning his reconciliation outfit in his head. 

***

When David gets back to the lake house he makes sure to grab the incorporation papers he’d retrieved from the store the day before. And then suddenly he realises the car keys aren’t on the hook. The car wasn’t in the driveway when he got in. Alexis has taken it somewhere, and he has less than an hour to get to Ray’s house. He definitely cannot miss the appointment, and Uber in Toronto on a weekday is shit.

_Fuck._

David panics for approximately two minutes and then he googles Ray’s address, then the address of the lake house. Six miles. That’s… doable, he thinks. At least if he dies it’ll be tragically romantic.

He takes a deep breath and thinks about how much he likes Patrick, about how he thinks he’d do most anything for him. Then he locks the door behind him and starts to run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one chapter to go, I'll update in a couple of days. Thank you as always for your comments and kudos.
> 
> I also made a playlist for this fic, mostly for when I was writing it, but if anyone's interested it's here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0Pa8ixgiglLo4wLkRHo4hG?si=mi4Xrr0MQMCAEIYkpGmDwQ


	11. In it for the long run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick has an appointment.

Patrick gets back to Ray’s at midday and is back at his desk by 1pm on the dot. He’d instructed Ray not to book in any appointments for him until half one, though he generally isn’t that busy with consultations on a Monday anyway, let alone last minute ones. So it’s a surprise when Ray sticks his head around the door of his ‘office’ - a table in the front room and tells him he has a 1:30pm meeting,

“Someone called while you were in the shower, to set up an appointment. I took the liberty of slotting him into your diary.” He disappears with a knowing wink. 

Patrick opens his day planner, and there, considerately pencilled in in Ray’s looping cursive is “1:30 PM - David Rose - filing incorporation papers + reconciliation(?)” Ray’s even drawn a pink little gel pen heart next to it. 

Patrick brings the hand not holding the diary up to his face, chuckling into it. He strokes the page with a thumb, “Thanks Ray!”

He wants to write over the appointment note in pen, in Sharpie, in indelible black ink. He wants it tattooed on his arm for the rest of his life.

Patrick looks at the clock: 1:07 PM. He can wait. He can wait just a little bit longer for the rest of his life.

***

At exactly 1:30 PM the door to Ray’s bursts open, and David’s there, flushed and sweaty in running gear. His chest is heaving, and he looks absolutely exhausted. Patrick’s slightly alarmed, but he’s also never been happier to see anyone in his entire life.

“Oh my god.” David leans over his knees and gasps for breath, “Am I on time?”

“Perfectly.” Patrick takes him in for another few seconds. “Sorry to ask the obvious question, but did you _run_ here?”

David _glares_ at him. Patrick holds his hands up in surrender, but he can’t wipe the smile off his face. It’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for him. He feels _wooed_. David looks like he’s about to pass out.

“Did you want some water?” David nods his head emphatically. Patrick grabs a glass from the kitchen cabinet (it’s an open plan living space. He doesn’t even know where Ray’s excused himself to.) and fills it up from the tap.

David grimaces, “Do you not have filter?” But he gulps it down anyway, then brandishes a few very soggy papers clutched in his right hand, 

“I’m here to file my incorporation papers.” Like that’s what he ran here for.

Patrick takes them from him, “Ok, I think we’re going to need to rewrite these, but have you filled them all in?”  
“Just about. I only just decided on the name on the way over.” Patrick raises his eyebrows in anticipation. 

“Rose Apothecary.” He tests it out a little hesitantly, a little proudly, and god, Patrick is so in love.

“It’s great David, just pretentious enough.” It’s perfect.

David smirks, “Well. If you’re going to be mean about it.”

Suddenly it’s too much - the teasing. David’s there, dripping with sweat, he doesn’t smell good at all, and he’s so damp, and Patrick just had a shower, but it’s too much and Patrick needs him, because he just ran literal miles to get to this appointment on time.

“David.” He breathes his name like it’s the most precious word in the entire world, because it is, it is to him. David, as if just waiting for a cue after his grand romantic gesture, snaps out of teasing mode, and pulls Patrick to him like he’s a life raft in a choppy sea. Patrick buries himself into David, nose finding the spot on his neck where he smells most like himself, the perfect height for Patrick to press a kiss to when they hug.

“I’m sorry.” Patrick murmurs directly into that spot.

“I’m sorry, too.” David pulls back to look him in the eye. “I trust you. And I want this. All of it.”

Patrick knows it’s one thing to want it secretly in the dark in the middle of the night and another thing to be vulnerable enough to say it out loud. David’s here, in front of him, doing both. He sounds certain, sure.

“You do?” He’s breathless, exhilarated. 

“Yeah. You?” To his credit, David’s only a little hesitant in asking. 

Patrick grins at him, “Yeah. Easiest decision of my life.”

David’s face relaxes, opening up fully, and he kisses the grin off Patrick’s face as they wrap around each other, entirely uncaring of their wildly different states of dress. 

Patrick murmurs against David’s lips, “I’m so proud of you.” David pulls back, arms still wrapped around Patrick’s neck, a questioning look on his face.

“Rose Apothecary.” Patrick pronounces every syllable with careful deliberation and it makes David’s lips curve up into a smile, a little grin that’s startlingly similar to the one Alexis wears when she wants something,

“I was looking up small business grants too - I figured if I got a little more money I could afford to hire a full-time business partner?”

Patrick’s heart flutters in his chest, says yes before his brain can even process the words.

“David, are you propositioning me?”

David shrugs flirtatiously, “Maybe.”

“You had me at small business grants.” He presses back into him, kissing him deeply, slowly. David matches him, a touch for every touch. Eventually they pull back, David looking at him softly.

“I’m very proud of you too, you know.” He bites his lip, “Do your parents really want to meet me?”

Patrick nods seriously, and David wiggles his entire body in joy, moving Patricks along with him. David looks at him so happily, and Patrick knows his face is broadcasting the same, bodies draped around each other like they’re dancing to non-existent music. He thanks every minute, every moment of his life that has led him here because it’s perfect, it’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

The moment is finally broken when Patrick playfully licks a stripe up David’s neck, “Mmm, sweaty.”

“Patrick!” David squawks.

“So how far did you run?” 

“Six miles.” David manages to look both slightly embarrassed and absurdly proud of himself at exactly the same time.

“What?! David, that’s a 10k!” 

“Well, I didn’t know that.”

“That is the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.” Patrick says sincerely, and it’s only a little incredulous.

David rolls his eyes, and also his whole head on his neck, self-consciously, “Well, it won’t be happening again.”

“You mean you’re not going to do a long distance run every time we fight?”

“No, that would be a terrible idea on all counts.”

“I won’t trick you into doing a marathon by accidentally shrinking a sweater?”

“How long is a marathon?”

“About four 10ks, give or take.”

“Absolutely fucking not.” David shakes his head, a wide grin still plastered on his face, and leans in for another kiss.

It’s alright, Patrick thinks, as he runs his hands up David’s broad, sweaty back. He can work up to getting David to run parkrun with him on their wedding day. He’s pretty sure they’ll get there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has supported this fic - it’s my first multi-chapter and I genuinely could not have done it without you. I have loved every comment and every kudos. 
> 
> As the inaugural parkrun fic on ao3, I hope I did parkrun justice - what a legacy to have. 
> 
> Please let me know if you enjoyed, and keep running and reading ;)


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